L'amour Pur
by Zlo1313
Summary: Sam went to Wammy's and encountered the oddity of Near. Four years later, she makes it big as author Saxon Leroux. Another death note enters the world and someone begins to kill authors. It's up to Near, but will he succeed without his former rival's help?
1. The Beginning

**Here's the updated version of L'amour Pur! Not too many changes, since so many people liked it (why fix what ain't broke?) Anyway, enjoy the new version!**

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><p>"Did you hear? There's a new L! And he defeated Kira!" The orphans whispered amongst themselves excitedly.<p>

A girl sitting in a corner reading David Copperfield looked up momentarily. She had only been at the orphanage for a few months, but through eavesdropping, she knew what was going on outside the safe gates of Wammy's House. L versus Kira, the serial killer with a supernatural means of killing criminals without being near them. From what she understood, it was the intellectual battle of the century.

"Who's the new L then?" Another asked.

"It's Near! Mello and Matt were killed during the case."

The girl sighed and looked back at her book, her thigh length blonde hair tucked behind her ears.

Sam wasn't very interested in L, or even being a detective for that matter. She had a much stronger love for writing and books than for solving crimes. And it wasn't that she was ungrateful of being here at Wammy's, she liked it there, it was just she hated that they were being groomed to be L's successor and that the chances of being L was one out of forty seven. She also hated that none of them even had their names anymore. As soon as they walk through the gates, they are slapped with a new identity and told to never tell anyone their real name. No, she didn't agree with the way Wammy's ran at all, but who was she to complain? She was content here and with her place at number fifteen.

The children were still talking of the new L and when it became too noisy for her to read peacefully, Sam closed her book and decided to go back to her room. As she passed the front door, it swung open, and four people shuffled in with the gust of frigid wind.

The first was a tank of a man with graying blond hair slicked back from his face. His expression was guarded as he gazed around the lobby, though he looked mildly interested.

The second was a tall woman with feathery blonde hair and gold, hawklike eyes that scanned the room. She gave a tiny nod of approval before standing beside the tank man, her ruby lips pursed together. She was holding the hand of a small child, a little girl. The girl looked similar to the woman, only instead of golden eyes, she had blue. Her eyes were downcast and she looked sickly. Sam didn't need to guess what the girl was doing here and felt sympathy toward her. Then, she looked at the last person.

He was a short boy with curly white hair. He was dressed in white pajamas, oddly enough, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. He shuffled in and Sam had the feeling that he wasn't too used to walking as she studied the way his socked feet slid awkwardly along the wooden floorboards. He had the darkest eyes she had ever seen, which contrasted greatly with his lack of pigmentation in both his physical attributes and clothes. His face gave no indication of what he was feeling or thinking. It both intrigued and disturbed Sam.

She studied the four of them curiously while the white haired boy walked, or rather shuffled, over to her. They were about the same height, which wasn't saying much on the boy's part since she was just about five feet. She leaned back from him, deeming him standing too close for comfort, but he either ignored her obvious discomfort, or he wasn't aware of it in the first place.

"Is Roger here?" His voice was quiet and she had to lean forward to hear him.

Sam pointed to his office, eyeing the boy oddly. The boy nodded back at her and his two companions followed him through the oak door, the little girl trailing behind them. The minute the door was closed, Sam pressed her ear against it, dying to know his identity.

"Near...nice...of course...Watari..."

She sighed and pulled back. She could only hear fragments. Then, she paused. So that's Near? She wondered. He seemed, physically, to be no more than twelve. She had heard from the others he was actually eighteen, though seeing him now made her seriously doubt that. Perhaps he suffered from stunted growth? Or a delayed growth spurt?

She didn't notice the door opened until someone ran into her and she let out a squeak as she fell to the ground. She let out a whine and rubbed her sore bottom before peering up at who had knocked her down. Near and his companions were standing in front of her, all with a raised eyebrow, except for the little girl. She was shamelessly staring at Sam whose face was beginning to burn with mortification. She clumsily got back to her feet, brushing dust off herself.

"S-sorry!" She quickly mumbled before running up the stairs to her room.

She wasn't planning on coming out of her room for the rest of the day, horrified that that had even happened. She suddenly recalled she no longer had her book with her and her heart stuttered.

"Oh, no! I left my book down there!" She groaned, flopping back down on her bed.

"Well, I'm not leaving. Nope, I'll just go get it later." She rolled over and buried herself in her covers, nodding once.

She remained there for the duration of the night, staring up at her ceiling. She listened to the old building groan as the wind blew, shivering when she felt the chill through her window. Her room was so quiet, not even filled with the snoring of a roommate. She was the only "S" in the orphanage at the time, but doubted another would be coming any time soon. She closed her eyes. It would be nice to have a roommate, even if most of them didn't get along. Just to hear another person _breathe_ would be enough for her. Not this deafening silence that made her ears ring. She nestled deeper into her covers and behind her closed lids, she counted sheep. She got to fifty before finally drifting off.

The next morning, she opened her door and gasped. Her book was lying in front of her door with a note on it. The script was elegant and neat and said only two words: Dear Sam.

She picked up the book and hugged it to her chest, peering down the hallways. She didn't see anyone; most of the children were already eating breakfast. She took the note off the book, stuffed it in her pocket, and went to the dining hall. She sat cross legged in her chair and placed her book before her, flicking through the pages until she returned to her spot.

She hated eating breakfast; she had a weak stomach that disagreed with her when it came to eating in the morning. The first morning of her residence, Roger and the other staff forced her to eat when she vehemently refused. However, when they witnessed her vomit the oatmeal back up after complaining her stomach hurt, they disgustedly decided to leave her alone when it came to the "most important meal" of the day.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

Sam looked up and her cheeks flared up with a pinkish hue. Near was standing beside her, clutching a toy robot to his chest. He was noticeably without his companions. He wasn't looking at her, his eyes decidedly on the book resting on the table.

"No. I get sick if I eat breakfast." She murmured, turning back to her book.

"Ah, I see. I used to be like that, too." He moved to take the chair across from her, pulling one of his knees up to his chest and twirled a piece of his hair idly between his fingers. "What is your rank here?"

"Fifteen."

He frowned and her face flushed again. It made her nervous when it seemed someone disapproved of her. Even more so when that someone was the new L.

"You're much smarter than that." Near stated it like it was a fact; no question in his mind at all.

It was her turn to frown. "How do you know that?"

He looked down at his robot, halfheartedly playing with it. "Because I was first here and I am L. It would be a disgrace to both titles if I couldn't read people. You're intelligent, so much more than a fifteenth rank, but you don't want to move up. My guess is either you have been threatened or you don't want to become L's successor."

_How could he possibly know that just from studying my face? That's creepy._ "I-I don't want to be a successor." She admitted.

He moved the robot's clenched fist so that it was aimed at her."Why?"

She had learned a little about Near prior to his arrival yesterday afternoon. As far as she knew, he held virtually no interest in social interaction and it was beginning to make her grow suspicious of the boy. He only spoke to others he either decided was intelligent enough for him or he was planning on using them as a pawn. She had a feeling it was more of the latter than the prior in her case and it made her bristle with indignation. She had no intention of ever being his pawn.

"What's with all the questions?" Sam demanded, violet eyes narrowing slightly.

Near stopped playing with his robot and looked up until he met her gaze, unwavering. "Curiosity; it is very rare for any child here to not want to be L. Why don't you want to be a successor?"

She blinked, uncertain if he was telling the truth. She answered slowly, "I just don't want to become a detective and be known only as a letter. It sounds so lonely."

He nodded as though he understood, which she felt like he didn't, and set his robot down on the table. She gestured at it. "What's with the toy?"

"They help me reenact the crime."

Yeah, right, I bet he just likes playing with them.

"How old are you anyway?" She asked.

"I am eighteen." Sam was surprised. He noticed and his eyebrow twitched.

"Yes, I know I look much younger than I actually am. You suspected you were older than me then? You most likely thought I was twelve and figured there would be a year or two difference. You are between thirteen and fifteen years of age."

Sam looked a little perturbed, bothered by him guessing her age range. "I'm fourteen."

The bell rang overhead and Sam automatically stood up, closing her book. He stood up as well and his two companions walked over to him. The little girl was absent.

"Sir, the plane will be leaving in an hour." The man said.

Near nodded and Sam tilted her head. "Where are you going?"

"I've begun a case. I should have it finished in a couple days, then I might come back here. Why, are you going to miss me?" He teased, though his face gave no indication that he was even teasing her.

His companions seemed surprised at the playfulness in their superior's voice as was Sam. She scoffed and turned from him. "As if! You're really weird."

She spun on her heel and stormed to her class, hearing him give a soft chuckle before she rounded the corner.


	2. Saxon Leroux

She bent over her notebook, her pen scratching rapidly across the lined paper. It had been over three weeks since Near had been there. Of course, Wammy's was still buzzing about his presence. Sam didn't think much about him; naturally, she didn't dwell on thoughts of someone she had met only once. She almost hoped he would return after a few days so she could get to know him better, disappointment settling in her chest when he didn't. It was perfectly understandable that he couldn't come back every few days, but she felt lonely and he had very briefly eased that feeling.

During the course of the three weeks, two funerals took place of the former numbers two and three, Mello and Matt. Near attended, Sam did not. She did not know Matt and Mello and felt like it would be encroaching on their grieving "loved ones." The orphans wouldn't stop talking about the way the two had perished. One of the boy's even claimed to have snuck a peek at Mello's body, stating he was "charred like briquette." Most of the orphans had a disturbing interest in death, one of the only things in common amongst the children, so they ate up the boy's words hungrily, trying to find the bodies before they were buried. Unlike the others, Sam was very sensitive about death and had no interest in it whatsoever. It nauseated her to even think of what happened to the poor men and she tended to leave the room the minute the conversation began to turn toward the morbid topic.

There was also a rumor of the girl that came with Near. Apparently, she was related to someone who worked on the Kira case and he or she died, leaving her orphaned. The girl was around three years old and the only time Sam ever saw her was during meals. She always sat alone, her head bent down. It was a sad sight, but Sam didn't dare approach her. There was something off about the girl, who was appropriately named Rue.

There was a chill in the drafty orphanage and she hugged her moth eaten sweater closer to her body as she shivered. The new headmaster insisted that "England winters are not that bad" and had the thermostat turned as low as possible. He had nice, thick clothes while the orphans were given hand-me-downs.

One of the older girls opened her door. "Sam, L's requested to see you in his room. Room L."

She stopped writing and looked up, frowning slightly. "Did he say what he wanted with me?"

The girl shrugged before dancing back into the hallway. Sam closed her notebook and walked to the room. She paused before the door before hesitantly knocking on it.

"Enter."

She opened the door and closed it behind her. Near was sitting on the floor with one knee pulled up to his chest. He was putting together a rather complex looking puzzle and he clicked each piece in quickly.

"You wanted to see me?" She asked, standing before him.

"I wanted to say 'hi.'...Hi." He looked up and offered her a tiny smile before looking back down at his puzzle.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking at him oddly. "Erm, hi, Near. So, when did you get back?"

"Just last night. I didn't call you in to talk about me. I'm still a little curious about you. When you leave Wammy's, what do you want to do with your life?"

Sam replied nervously, "W-well, something in writing, like maybe an author or a journalist."

"What kind of genre?"

He really liked digging for more information, she mused as she thought about it. "I'm good at realistic fiction. And fantasy."

"Hmm." She wasn't sure if he was interested in not. Feeling awkward, she sat across from him, his puzzle acting as a buffer zone.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, the only noise coming from the methodical click of the puzzle pieces. She watched him, impressed by how quick and sure his movements were. It was almost soothing.

"Where will you go when you leave?" He broke the silence momentarily, looking up at her briefly.

"I...I kind of wanted to live in America. Maybe in the western area, like Los Angeles. Or even Japan."

Near tilted his head to the side, hand pausing its mechanical movement. "Japan? What's there?"

She shrugged a shoulder, her cheeks beginning to turn pink. "I like the culture."

"Such simple answers..." He mumbled more to himself than her, but she still heard.

Sam's face flushed more. "I-I'm sorry. I'm not very good at in-depth conversations. I-I'm not very good at talking."

He blinked. "Then that is one thing we have in common."

The warning bell to be in their rooms rang overhead, startling the both of them. Sam got up quickly, not registering he just insulted her, intentional or not.

"O-oh, it's already curfew time! I need to go!" She rushed to the door, but froze when she felt a cool hand grab her wrist.

She turned to look up at Near. He looked back at her. "I won't be back for a while. So, in case you leave before I come back, I want to say goodbye. And good luck with your writing."

She smiled slightly, quickly kissing his cheek. "Thanks, Near. Bye!"

She quickly ran out, leaving a surprised Near behind as the door closed. He touched his pale cheek where her lips seemed to burn an imprint into the flesh.

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><p>"Young author, Saxon Leroux, has come up with yet another bestseller, Colorless, a thrilling mystery novel. We have Saxon with us to talk about her inspiration for her latest novel. Everyone, please welcome Miss Leroux!" The talk show host clapped politely as the audience roared with applause.<p>

A petite girl walked onto the stage, purple eyes shining as she smiled shyly. Her light auburn hair was cut mid back, ending in soft ringlets. She was wearing a dark suit and flats as she hopped into the stool beside the host.

"Saxon, just one year ago, you appear at New York's top publishing company with just scattered piles of paper. You have no known educational background, no family; it seems you appeared out of thin air. Yet, here you are, one of the most famous authors of this generation! How does that feel?"

Saxon smoothed out her skirt before replying happily, "It feels great! I'm so grateful to the publishing company for giving me a chance and helping me really jump start my writing career. I owe it all to them for being here and helping me do what I love!"

"Your background is a mystery. Would you care to shed some light on it?" The host leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes glowing with excitement.

"Well, I was raised in an orphanage in France. I never knew my parents; they left me at the doorstep. Then, I was moved to an orphanage in England when I was fourteen. I left the orphanage when I was fifteen and came to America to try beginning my career, but it wasn't easy. Like you said, I went to a publishing company in New York and here I am."

The host's eyes widened sympathetically. "Fourteen? That's awfully young to leave! And how old are you now?"

"I am sixteen."

"Look at this, folks! A sixteen year old bestselling author! This proves you can accomplish your dreams. Now, about your novel. I have read it and absolutely adored it! Tell me, where did your inspiration come from?"

Saxon looked at her folded hands. "An old friend. I haven't seen him in a while and the rest of it just came to me."

"And the title?"

"Well, he's very pale. The whole story is pretty colorless if you ask me." She laughed sheepishly.

The host joined in the laughter. "You may see it as colorless, but critics have all agreed that it is absolutely mesmerizing! Saxon, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule and joining us. After the break, we will talk about the mysterious disappearance of Kira."

"Thank you for having me." She smiled and when the cameras cut to break, she got off the stool.

The host shook hands with her, amiably praising her book once more before Saxon politely excused herself, looking over at where her agent was waiting. She left the studio with her agent, heading down the street.

"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful as usual, Sam."

Sam smiled slightly, removing the wig, revealing rays of bright blonde hair cut chin length. "Thanks. I was so nervous, I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest."

Her publisher, Tanya, a plump woman in her thirties, waved her hand at the very idea. "Nonsense, you were a natural!"

Sam blushed at the compliment and Tanya asked, "How about getting some lunch? I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

"Lunch would be great." She giggled, getting into the black Town car as her publisher got in the driver's side.

They drove to a nearby cafe and sat down in one of the booths. Sam stirred her hot chocolate carefully before taking a quick sip. Tanya swallowed a huge gulp of coffee.

"I've set up a book signing in one of the nearby book stores for you. Tomorrow from ten to twelve." Tanya said.

Sam frowned. "Tanya, you know I hate-"

"You hate book signing, I know. But, you're famous, Sam! People are going to want your signature!" She waved her hand in annoyance.

Sam sighed and drank her hot chocolate. A grilled cheese sandwich was placed in front of her and she took a bite. She moaned through the gooey cheese, kicking her feet happily. Tanya rolled her eyes and took a bite from her crisp salad.

"You're so simple to please. If you keep eating grilled cheese sandwiches, you're gonna get fat." Tanya pointed out, waving a blue cheese covered piece of lettuce at her.

"Actually, I learned that you don't gain any calories if you burn them by using your brain." She tapped her temple for emphasis, ranting off what the Wammy's kids used to say constantly.

"Hmph, you better not be calling me stupid." Tanya grumbled.

Sam laughed, "No, of course not, Tanya."

The two finished their lunch and got back in the car, returning back to the hotel where they were currently staying. Sam changed into a pair of sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, sitting on her bed. she grabbed her journal and began to scribble in it, writing down any idea that popped into her head.

Before long, Tanya came in with Chinese food, setting a carton of white rice and orange chicken in front of her.

"Thanks, Tan." She said gratefully before digging in.

"No prob. Besides, I was really craving for it." Tanya sat across from her, eating her food.

Sam curled up in her bed, sighing. It was nearly midnight. She wondered if it would be another night of tossing and turning. She had mild insomnia, but sleep was beginning to become more of a luxury than a basic need as the insomnia seemingly worsened. When she was able to sleep, though, she was plagued with nightmares. Still, she would rather have nightmares than no sleep at all. Beside her, Tanya snored softly, the sound both soothing and distracting.

At some point within the night, she had manage to doze off without any dreams.


	3. An Unexpected Fan

"Ngh, five more minutes..." Sam huffed, pulling the covers tighter over her.

"I already let you sleep in! We need to be at the book store in twenty minutes." Tanya tugged on Sam's ankle, but the girl held tightly to the bedpost.

"I don't wanna..." Sam whined sleepily, opening one eye to glare at her publisher.

Tanya glowered at her and growled, "Get your ass moving now."

Sam shuddered and reluctantly got out of bed and shuffled to the shower, stripping as she went along. She hissed when the water came out too hot and adjusted the knobs accordingly. Once she was covered with soap, she rinsed off and shut the shower off. She brushed her teeth and spit before leaving the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her. Tanya was sitting on her bed, playing with her phone.

"I took the liberty of laying your clothes out for you." She said without looking up.

Sam walked over to her bed and grimaced. Another suit. She dropped the towel and pulled the insufferable clothes on.

"You know I hate wearing suits. Why can't I just wear my casual clothes?" She whined, pouting at Tanya.

"Because, that is what Sam would wear. Saxon Leroux is a sophisticated, professional woman. Besides, you were the one who wanted her to dress like that." Tanya pointed out.

"Yeah, but I didn't think I would have to wear them all the time." Sam sighed as she pulled the wig back on, sulking after Tanya as they left the hotel.

They got to the book store a few minutes before it was opening, a line already beginning to form. The table where she would be sitting for the next two hours was already set up. She sat down while Tanya standing beside her. The book store opened and a large group of people hurried in, lining up in front of her. She was surprised at the age range; there were people as young as twelve and as old as forty in line. A twelve year old girl shyly walked over to her, clutching her book. Sam smiled pleasantly at her as she took the book from her, opening up the hardcover.

"What's your name?" Sam asked.

"C-Clare..." She murmured quietly, smiling back.

"'To Clare, keep on reading! Your friend, Saxon Leroux.' Here you are. I hope you enjoy it." She carefully handed the book back.

"Thank you!" Clare beamed and skipped off to where her mother was waiting.

The line shuffled through, each person praising her for her writing. A boy her age even bashfully kissed her cheek before running off to his friends. Sam's face flushed a little, but she giggled good naturedly. A pale hand placed her book in front of her and she opened it.

"What would you like me to write in it?" She inquired without looking up, black pen ready.

"'To Near. May your puzzle remain blank.'" The voice was still so familiar even after the years she had not heard it, though it was significantly deeper now.

Slowly, Sam looked up and her eyes widened when she saw that it was in fact Near standing before her. At least, she thought it was him. His face had lost its childish roundness, becoming sharper and thinner. His hair was still curly and a pristine white, but it was a little more unruly. He was much taller and thinner. He was wearing a white button up shirt, a pair of baggy jeans, and beat up looking shoes. She gaped at him.

"N-Near? Is that really-"

"Hey, we wanna talk to her sometime today!" Someone protested and there was a noise of agreement.

He paid them no mind and gestured to the book. "If you would."

"Y-yeah, sure." She numbly signed the book and he took it back from her.

"Thank you." He left without another word, leaving her to watch as he disappeared out of the store.

When the book signing was over, Sam listlessly sipped her cup of hot chocolate. Tanya was looking at her in concern.

"Hey, you okay? You've been acting weird since that guy came in. Who was he anyway? You seemed to know him." She remarked.

"Just an old friend...I was shocked to see him is all. I probably won't see him again." She sighed and threw away her cup.

"Can't you look him up?"

She smiled sadly. "I wish it were that easy. It would be best if I just forget that I saw him."

"Huh?" Tanya tilted her head to the side, puzzled.

"Sorry, orphanage secrets." Sam winked at her before standing up, ready to leave.

"If you say so...must be a weird orphanage..." Tanya followed her back to the hotel, going to their separate rooms.

Sam opened her hotel door and closed the door behind her, sighing. She fumbled for the light switch and took the auburn wig off.

"So it wasn't your real hair color. Good; your eyes are more compatible with blonde." She gasped when she heard someone speak from behind her.

She let her back leg swing out, hoping to catch the intruder in the stomach, but they caught her ankle. She hopped up and down to keep her balance, flailing her arms and letting out an undignified squeak. She glared at the intruder, who happened to be Near. He looked bored.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

She sighed and straightened up when he set her foot back down. "Don't sneak up on me! How did you find out where I was anyway?"

"I am L. It was pretty simple finding the hotel room of where the great Leroux was staying in. Even if you were under your publisher's name." He replied, hands in his pockets.

"...Right. So, how've you been?" She sat down on the edge of her bed.

Sam half expected him to sit on the floor like the way he used to, but he sat in a chair instead, his knee pulled up to his chest_. I see he's been promoted from floor to chair._

"Alright. Nothing of great importance has happened. But, obviously, a lot has been happening with you." He gestured around the suite.

"Heh, yeah...Told you I'd become an author." She smiled.

Near returned the smile, "I'm impressed and pleased you were able to achieve your dream. Why the pen name?"

"I still wanted to go out without people swarming me. So, I decided to go by the pen name Saxon Leroux so I could still be Sam. No one other than my publisher knows my other alias and I would like to keep it like that."

"And here I thought you would be going by your real name."

"I thought so, too. But, I guess I got comfortable using a fake name."

"Hmm." He looked at her thoughtfully, resting his chin on his knee.

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. He plucked at invisible pieces of lint sticking to his achromatic shirt, while Sam twiddled her thumbs nervously. "S-so, is there a reason why you are here?"

He stopped plucking at his shirt and looked over at her. She had learned to read people, but his gray eyes were so blank, she still couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Your fan letters."

Sam's frown deepened and her eyebrow wrinkled in confusion. "Huh? What for?"

"Curiosity. I want to see what kind of people are reading your books."

She picked up on the lie. "Why? Do I have a stalker or something?"

Near laughed, but it was mirthless. "You have no need to be concerned; it is just curiosity, I assure you. Could you get them out for me?"

"Sorry, but my publisher handles all my fan letters. You'll have to talk to..." She trailed off when she saw the flicker of emotion over his face. She recognized it immediately.

Sighing, she stood up. "Fine, fine. I'll talk to her and get them from her. Heaven forbid that Near actually talks to someone!"

"The sarcasm isn't necessary." He said flatly.

Ignoring him, she left the room and knocked on Tanya's door across the hall. She blinked and let out a snort of amusement when Tanya opened the door, a green face mask on and hair rollers all over her head.

"Nice look. It does wonders." Sam giggled.

Tanya scowled. "What do you want, Sam?"

"Could I have my fan letters? I want to read them."

She sighed and nodded, grumbling, "Wait one sec."

A couple minutes later, she returned with a large bag filled with unopened letters. Handing them to Sam, she scowled. "Now don't bother me. I need my beauty sleep."

"Of course, thank you, Tanya." Sam smiled sweetly and skipped back to her room.

Near was still sitting in the chair, but he stood up when he heard her come in. She dragged the bag over to him, huffing. "Well...here they are."

He slung them over one shoulder effortlessly and turned to look at her. "Thank you, Sam."

He went to leave, but she stopped him, looking down. "Is...is that really all you came here for?"

"Why else would I come here?" He inquired.

She shrugged and muttered, "I dunno, maybe you missed me or something...If that was all you came for, then why not just send one of your subordinates?"

"Oh. They felt that I needed to 'go out.' I did miss you a little, but I just assumed it was because I had no one else to talk to." He replied dismissively.

Sam scowled and folded her arms across her chest. "Well, I didn't miss you! You know where the door is."

She turned her back on him, nose in the air. Near tilted his head to the side, perplexed. Women are so confusing. They say one thing, then mean the other. How contradictory. He smiled nonetheless, shaking his head.

"Still a child at heart." He murmured.

She scowled and whirled around, "What do you mean by-"

She cut herself off. He was gone. Sam sighed and rubbed her temples. "Even after all this time, he still is so infuriating!"

Near

He, Rester, and Halle sifted through the letters, reading each one. They discarded most of them, but Halle paused when the letter she grabbed felt heavier than the rest of them. She opened it and saw that it was a video tape.

"Near." He looked over at her and held out his pale hand.

She placed it in his hand. He held it carefully before slipping it in a VCR. For a minute, nothing happened, then the screen turned blank. His heart skipped a beat when he heard a scrambled voice.

"Miss Leroux, please forgive the scrambled voice; I am too shy for you to hear my real voice. You can call me Inclementia. I am your biggest fan. I think you have been cheated out of being 'world's greatest author' and I am determined to help you get the title that rightfully is yours. Two weeks from now, I shall begin my mission."

"What do you think he means?" Halle asked Near, looking nervous.

He reached up and twirled one of his curls, frowning. "I'm not sure. Rester, when was this mailed?"

Rester studied the envelope the tape came in before saying, "August 31."

"Thirteen days ago. Rester, you will stay here with me to watch the news worldwide for any strange activity. Halle, I want you to trail Sam. Don't let her see you in case she recognizes you from before. Be on guard." Near commanded.

"Yes, sir." His subordinates replied in unison.

Near turned back to the monitor, his mind in a frenzy. _I'm not sure what exactly is going to happen, but I do have a suspicion. _


	4. Poetry Blues

Tanya agreed to let Sam go home for a break. She shoved her key into her apartment door and went inside, sighing.

"It's so good to be home." She smiled.

With the money she made as an author, she had managed to buy a penthouse. Two stories with a glass staircase that led to a master bathroom and bedroom. She had an absurdly large king sized bed with lovely satin sheets and a nice, thick comforter. Her whole north wall was made of glass and she had a porch with a sitting area. Her walls were white with simple pictures of scenic views or of her favorite quotes and books. She had plain, but practical furniture and all the appliances she needed.

She unpacked her things and flopped down on the couch, kicking off her shoes. She grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. There was breaking news.

"Author Renee Shyrik has died from a heart attack. Shyrik was heading to a book signing when she suddenly collapsed on the steps in front of the book store. She was thirty two years old." The newscaster stated, looking solemn.

"How horrible." Sam murmured, changing the channel.

"Authors Shuyler, Ann, and Marie Gilest have all died of heart attacks. They formerly went by the pen name 'Jane Margareet' and were currently promoting their most recent book Among the Butterflies. They were thirty seven, forty, and forty two respectively and arguably three of the best writers of the twenty first century."

Sam began to chew on her lip, frowning. Something wasn't right about this and she could feel it. Shivering, she turned off her TV and decided to clean her dusty home, hoping it would take her mind off the sudden deaths of several fellow writers. She was mopping her linoleum kitchen floor when her phone ring. Propping the phone between her ear and shoulder, she murmured, "Corbitt residence, Samantha speaking."

"Sam, it's Tanya. Have you seen the news?"

"Yeah, weird, huh?"

"I'll say. Anyway, how are you with poetry?"

She knitted her eyebrows together. "Um, I've never really tried. Why?"

"Publishing company wants you to write a poem by Thursday morning and to show it to them then."

Sam glanced at her calendar and her eyes widened. "What? But that's in two days! Can't they give me more time?"

"I tried, but they're really anal about deadlines. Sorry, kid. You're just going to have to do your best with it." Tanya sounded apologetic.

She sighed and pushed her bangs back. "Alright, I'll try. But, tell them not to hold their breaths. I'm a novelist, not a poet, dammit."

"I'll be sure to give them the message. See you on Thursday."

"Yeah...bye." Sam hung up the phone and groaned.

"I'm going to need to do some research..." She quickly finished mopping up the floor and went to fish out her laptop.

The second it turned on, it exploded. She yelped and threw it to the ground, eyes wide. Then, she let out another groan.

"Great. Now, I'm going to have to buy another one. Well...I might as well head to the library. My book is due tomorrow anyway." She muttered to herself, shoving her arms through her pea-coat.

She tied up her boots and left her building, walking down the New York City streets to the library. She felt like someone was following her the whole way, but every time she would look out of her peripheral vision, she would see flocks of people walking behind her. You're just being paranoid. Relax, Sam, she told herself as she pushed open the glass doors of the public library.

After dropping off her book, she wandered to the research center where the computers were. The library only had six computers and two of them were taken; one by a pizza faced teenager and the other by a group of eleven year old boys playing a computer game. Sam took the one at the end and turned it on. She went onto Google and began to research poetry, memorizing what iambic pentameter was and the different types of poems. There's so many to choose from! Hmm, haiku looks interesting. Yeah...I think I will write a haiku! Those seem simple enough. Nodding, she shut the computer off and returned back to her penthouse.

She grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled, "Destructive fire, Burn everything in your path, Singe the sin away."

"Huh, that was easy." She mused, slipping it into a folder and placing it beside her bag.

She got into her pajamas and went to bed, ready to fall into a coma.

Near

"It's too odd to be a coincidence. Unfortunately, my suspicions were correct. Lidner, Rester, I believe we have another Kira in our hands." He declared somberly.

The two both sighed and Rester grumbled, "Can't the damn shinigami keep from dropping their notebooks for even a few years? If it's that clown one again, I think I'm going to scream."

"So, how are we going to find this one, Near?" Halle asked.

Near stacked up the dice, mulling it over in his head. "...We are going to wait for a couple days. On the off chance that the deaths are not connected, we will not act. However, if more authors die within the next forty eight hours, I will have Watari contact Interpol and ask for their cooperation. I may even have to call in some...'enforcement' if things begin to get out of hand."

"So we're going to sit around while more authors possibly die?" She sounded upset.

"Yes, you could think of it like that. In the mean time, Halle, keep trailing Sam." He nodded indifferently.

"Right."

It was one of these moments where it truly bothered Halle she was working under a young man who cared so little for human life, even when it was his job to preserve it. No, maybe that wasn't right. Near wasn't working to preserve human life. He was working on preserving justice, the only thing he would ever be good at. All the same, it unnerved her when his cold apathy towards humans came to the surface.


	5. The War Begins

More authors continued to die over the course of several days. Sam knew it wasn't a coincidence and she became nervous, certain she would be next. She continued to attempt to assure herself that she was going by a pen name, that no one even knew her real name other than L and Roger. Yet, the doubt continued to linger in the back of her mind.

She had her auburn wig and professional clothes on as she stood before the publishing company. They were reading her haiku and she wrung her hands nervously. They didn't seem happy.

"This is good..." She sensed a 'but' coming. "...but, we think you can do better."

She refrained from saying anything, waiting for them to continue.

"You see, haiku is impersonal; they don't have any emotion in them. Now, if you were to do a free verse or a sonnet..." One of them began.

"You would be able to capture your emotions much easier! Write something sad, dark! Dig up some past angst!" Another ended.

_Jeez, do they think I'm depressed or something?_ "I-I'll try again, but I can't promise anything. I'm no good with poetry! Why do you guys even want me to attempt it?"

The man sitting in the very center folded his fat hands together. "About sixty percent of your readers are teenagers. While your writing does convey some emotion from you, it would be better if you could connect more emotionally with the teenagers. You know how they love all that angst. We want you to write a poetry book with at least eighty poems in it and we will publish it sometime next fall. In the mean time, try again with the poem and come back here this Monday."

Sam visibly wilted. "E-eighty? What if I can't do it?"

Their expressions darkened in unison. "We hope that you won't fail."

She interpreted the hidden meaning, buried under that one sentence: "Fail and you're fired."

She gulped and nodded. "G-got it."

"Glad that you understand. Thank you for dropping by, Saxon. You may go." The center man dismissed.

She nodded and left the room, wilting more and more as she left the building. "Eighty? How do they expect me to do one poem let alone eighty? Oh, man, this sucks. I need some major relaxing. Maybe a deep tissue massage...No, no, I just need to do some more research. Maybe try to get in touch with my inner angst."

She trudged up to her home and quickly got comfortable. She turned on the news, expecting to see more deaths.

"The author poll has come in. Saxon Leroux has placed in the top twenty at rank eighteen."

She smiled, pleased. The news anchor's cheery smile abruptly twisted into a grimace.

"More authors have died during the past two hours. All of them heart attacks. People are beginning to wonder: Is there another Kira amongst us and why is he only interested in authors?"

Her smile quickly fell and she shivered. "A-another Kira? That can't be good..."

"Breaking news! Interpol had called together an emergency meeting earlier today regarding the Book Kira. Watari was there in place of L, bringing a laptop which L used to communicate with the world's law enforcement. Here is a part of what L had said about the case."

The screen turned blank and an 'L' written in Old English Text appeared on the screen. Sam leaned forward, eyes and ears intent on the screen.

"I am sure that you all have heard about the recent deaths of over fifty world renown authors. The wishes to go by the name Inclementia, so it is inappropriate to call him 'Kira.' I have discovered a video tape of a scrambled voice recording to an author, I shall not disclose his/her name at the time. In the message, Inclementia stated that he felt that the author deserved to be considered as the world's best author and was going to do something about it in two weeks. He had sent the message on August 31 and the killings began September 14; exactly two weeks. I can see that he is killing off other authors so that this author can be the best. While I am not ruling out the author as being the suspect, there is a very small chance that he/she is Inclementia."

"I have already set up my own group to work on this case, but police worldwide should feel free to give me any information relevant to the case. I am asking for Interpol's full cooperation as my methods may be considered 'outside the law'. Do not interfere with my plans, no matter how immoral you may perceive them to be. That goes to the whole world as well. I will take down Inclementia no matter what. This case will not be dragged out for as long as the Kira case had been." The screen cut black before returning back to the newscaster.

"Safe to say, the world's greatest detective, L, is on the case!"

Sam released the breath she had been holding. _Just like before. Near, I hope you will be careful. In the mean time, that stupid poem...Dig up some past angst! How ridiculous!_

Sam didn't have a troubled past. Granted, she was an orphan, but she didn't even remember her parents; she had been in orphanages since she was a baby. The old orphanage she used to be at in France had told her that they found her curled up in some dirty rags by a dumpster, her name written on her forehead in black marker, but that was it. People who knew about her story jokingly called her "Dumpster Baby." An old man named Roger came, and, impressed with her apparent intelligence, took her back with him to England to attend Wammy's House when she was fourteen. She was never picked on, never stood out. In fact, her whole life, she had been permanently etched into the background: seen but never heard.

There wasn't a negative emotion in her. She was cool and level headed for the most part. It took a lot to anger her and even more to make her cry. She was only easily offended and sensitive about what others thought of her, which was why she tried to act polite, especially toward strangers. She used to wonder if that was why Near was so expressionless, so good at maintaining his emotions and reacting as minimally as possible, if at all. She considered even asking him once, but thought better of it; she had a feeling she would be lied to.

Initially, even as a young girl she worried about what she would do with her life. Would she remain an orphan isolated from the world for the rest of her life, or would her life be taken from her before she even had a chance to make her mark? The minute she had picked up a pencil, she knew. Writing was what she would be best at. She loved the way ink smelled and the way her hand cramped up if she wrote too quickly or for too long. She loved seeing the dust coming up from her fast hand turn into beautiful words that expressed anything and everything. More importantly, she loved how everything remained frozen on the paper. Even when everything changed around her, the words and story remained the same.

Grabbing a blank piece of paper and a pen, she placed it on the top line and let her hand move as she decided on what to write.

Inclementia

A shadowed figure sat on a leather couch in a darkened room, his legs crossed. He was tapping his chin, grimacing at the news. "The author poll has come in. Saxon Leroux has placed in the top twenty at rank eighteen."

"Blasphemy! My Saxon does not deserve such a lowly rank!" He exclaimed, his voice like gravel.

He pulled out a black notebook that said DEATH NOTE. He began to scribble in it, but paused when a loud cackle resounded from behind him. Though he was used to the laugh, it still derailed his train of thought whenever it snapped through his preferred silence.

"Heh, aren't you getting bored with repeating the deaths in the same way? Maybe you should shake things up a bit." The poisonous voice encouraged, red eyes gleaming in the darkness.

The figured grinned, considering the words thoughtfully. "Excellent idea, Ryuk. Yes, I want to make these authors suffer for making my poor beloved Saxon stay in eighteenth place."

The red eyes belonged to a Shinigami, and he cackled again.** This guy is almost as interesting as Light used to be. This could be a lot of fun!**


	6. The Pawn

Near

"Does the news station agree to give its full cooperation tomorrow?" He queried, stacking building blocks.

"Yes, sir. They won't interfere no matter what happens. The same goes for the local police station." Rester replied.

"Good. And the decoy?" Near looked up at the larger man.

Rester swallowed. This was the part of the plan that bothered him. He understood it was to catch a criminal, but to endanger someone's life- "She understands what may happen."

Near nodded and grabbed an animal cracker. It was an elephant with a rather deformed looking trunk. He frowned at the likeness of the nose of a proboscis monkey and bit it off. He chewed slowly before popping the rest of it in his mouth.

"Very well then. We will monitor everything from here. Hopefully, everything will go according to plan. There is a ninety percent chance that Inclementia will walk right into our trap."

"And the other ten percent?"

Near took that time to pop several more animal crackers into his mouth. He liked their taste and savored it. Rester waited patiently for his superior.

"He will take his anger out on authors and perhaps even Leroux herself as substitutes for us."

"Great." Halle and Rester both grumbled under their breaths.

Sam

She was still mulling over her paper, the whole page covered with cross outs, added sentences and words when the news station announced that there was going to be a global broadcast about Inclementia. Interested, Sam looked up from her paper and watched.

A young woman was sitting behind a desk, hands folded neatly in front of her. Her auburn hair curled into ringlets and she had amethyst colored eyes. Sam was surprised by the uncanny resemblance between herself and the woman. Then, she looked at the name tag in front of the woman. It said "Saxon Leroux."

Sam's eyes widened as she choked out, "W-what? Is that some kind of a joke? Who the hell is that woman?"

"I am the author Inclementia has been killing authors for. I assure the public, I have nothing to do with him, nor do I condone what he is doing. Inclementia, you obviously have some sort of obsession with me and I do not approve of you killing my fellow writers just because they are better than me. I am happy just to be considered 'one of the world's best', but I don't want to be the only author left because of what you are doing." The woman said, her face relaxed despite the inflaming words she uttered.

Sam's phone began to ring and she picked it up. "Hello?"

"What the heck is going on? Are you watching the news? There's some woman on there-" Tanya was ranting.

"Y-yeah, I know, I'm watching it. Well...now the world knows who Inclementia is obsessed with. I'm really creeped out." Sam replied, looking back at the TV.

"That being said, however, I would like to meet with you, Inclementia. While I am uncertain of how exactly you kill these authors without being in the same room with them, but I trust you will not harm with me. I want you to meet me in LABB on the sixteenth; four days from now. Please send a video response to this news station within two days." The woman declared with finality.

The camera cut and Sam exhaled sharply. Her heart was pounding as she tried to figure out what exactly was going on. It was painstakingly obvious it was Near who was behind this and just that fact was enough to irritate her more than the whole situation did.

"This is really serious. Who do you think set up that woman?" Tanya asked.

"I don't know. But he is so dead when I get my hands on him!" Sam growled.

* * *

><p>Inclementia had responded to the video within the day. It disturbed her how eager he seemed to be in the video, immediately agreeing to it, but setting up certain terms. For one thing, he would not approach "Saxon" immediately, but he would be nearby watching until he was certain she was alone. Next, he would check her for wires and taps. Of course, if Near was truly behind this trick, he would find some sort of way around Inclementia's conditions.<p>

The publishing company called Sam and told them that they were postponing her poetry. She was relieved, but now she felt like public enemy number one. Authors continued to die, now at an alarming rate, and everyone was blaming her.

"I wish he would just kill her and then this whole mess would stop!" A talk show host declared.

"You shouldn't wish anyone's death! There is no negotiating with psychotic killers." Another argued.

Sam shut her TV off, bringing her knees up to her chest. She sighed and buried her face in them. Ever since people began to blame her, poetry became easy. It turned out she did need some sort of negativity to really let the angst come out. It was her birthday and Tanya had wished her a happy one, but otherwise didn't come by to see how the poor seventeen year old was holding up.

There was a knock on her door and she warily walked over to it. She looked through the peephole. To her surprise, Near was standing on the other side, a bouquet of roses in his hand. Hissing, she opened the door and dragged him in.

"Bastard, bastard, bastard!" She began to hit him, angrily cursing at him.

He seemed taken aback and pushed her gently away from him, cringing when she hit him in the jaw.

"What did I do?" His words made her freeze.

"What did you...WHAT DID YOU DO? I'll tell you what you did! You let some poor woman impersonate me and now that damned psycho thinks she's me! Now he's expecting to meet the real Saxon! Just what if he finds out she isn't the real one? AND YOU DID ALL THIS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!" She screamed at him.

Near blinked, remaining as passive as usual. "...Are you done?"

"Fuck you!"

He sighed and shot her an irritated glare, "There is no need for such vulgar language. It's not like the decoy doesn't understand the risks. If I had asked for your permission, I knew you would have said no anyway, so I chose to disregard your opinion. 'Better to ask forgiveness than permission.' Besides, the fact is I am that much closer to finding him. Soon, all authors will be safe."

"But now people think that I am in cahoots with this guy! And that I should be killed! I'll be lucky if I don't get fired by the publishing company!" Tears began to sting her eyes as she spoke from frustration, her voice cracking.

Near took a step back. He didn't know how to deal with crying women. He held up the roses. "...Happy birthday. I brought you some roses."

He shoved them into her arms. Momentarily distracted, she buried her nose in the sweet smelling petals of velvet garnet. "T-thank you."

He nodded and looked around her penthouse. "Quite a copacetic apartment you have; very spacious."

"What do you want, Near?"

"You already gave me what I want." He wandered over to her couch, running his hand over a blanket she had thrown over it.

She looked puzzled and he continued, "I came here to interrogate you. I had a small suspicion that either you were Inclementia, or you were in league with him. But, after witnessing him so zealously agree to meet with the fake and seeing your reaction, neither is true. Unless you two are exceptional actors, which I doubt."

"Oh..." She looked down and set her roses down. She realized some of them were crushed from her hitting him earlier.

"I need to go." He turned and grabbed the door knob, but paused. Without turning around, he said, "Keep safe, Sam."

She rubbed her eyes and looked at her roses. Numbly, she went to get a vase, filled it with water, and placed the flowers in it. She went upstairs and crawled under the covers. She stared up at her ceiling, the unfamiliar heavy sensation on her eyelids appearing.

"Well, Near, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into. I sure as hell can't figure out what's going on in your head." She said aloud.

She fisted her quilt, suddenly longing for something to pet. "When this is all over, I'm making that bastard buy me a kitten."

She laid like that for hours, sleep ignoring her and words evading her.

Near

He didn't understand himself anymore. Why did he insist on endangering not only himself, but her, by going out and visiting her at her apartment? He liked the apartment. She still had some luxuries, but kept it practical. He appreciated practical.

He had refused a car; an unusual thing for him to do. He hated walking, or moving for that matter, but he was trying to get himself to be more independent. He was twenty and still needed someone to book a flight for him. He felt pathetic. Besides, walking gave him a better chance to observe normal human beings in their habitat. It never ceased to amaze him how truly self-centered humans were, only concerned with their problems. He was no different, but after seeing average people acting like that, it disgusted him. Part of him wondered if being self-centered made people happy. For that matter, he wondered if ignorance truly was bliss. He was starting to consider developing a theory about the correlation between intelligence and happiness. He was certain there was a connection there.

Maybe after this case, he thought. Near arrived back at his headquarters, oddly out of breath, though he had only walked several blocks. Rester was staring at one of the monitors, turning his head slightly to acknowledge he had hear Near come in.

"I trust Halle is with our decoy going over the plan?" He asked.

Rester nodded and hesitated for a moment before inquiring, "Sir, just how exactly is our decoy going to be able to tell it's Inclementia before he approaches her?"

Near smirked, a disturbing, almost frightening, expression on his face. He had been hoping Rester would ask him that.

"I had her touch a piece of the Shinigami's notebook from the Kira case."


	7. The Meeting

He sat before the monitor, seeing everything the decoy was seeing thanks to the hidden camera pin. Halle was walking beside her as they went to the destination. Beside him, Rester asked, "How do you know Inclementia knows what you're talking about?"

Near idly tapped the head of his Optimus Prime action figure. "I believe he knows about the Los Angeles BB Murders. Therefore, if I told him to go to 'LABB' he would figure out I want him to meet us in Los Angeles on Beyond Boulevard. There is also a cafe on a corner of Beyond Boulevard called 'The Quarter Inn.'"

Rester wasn't too sure what Near was talking about, but nodded his head like he understood. "I see. And you're sure the decoy will be able to see the Shinigami?"

"Yes, more than ninety five percent sure, actually, if my suspicion is accurate and Inclementia has a killer notebook."

Near grabbed a headset and put it on, tapping the microphone in front of his mouth.

"'Saxon', can you hear me?"

"Yes. These earrings were a great idea."

Halle spoke up then, staring straight ahead. "N, do you have a visual?"

"I do. Please approach the cafe and sit in one of the back booths, but don't go in simultaneously. Halle, sit nearby but act like a civilian. 'Saxon', I must remind you again, do not react in any way if and when you see the God of death."

"Alright."

Near watched the two women enter the Quarter Inn, following his orders exactly. Saxon sat in the back booth while Halle sat within sight.

"Good. Halle, do not make an arrest no matter how suspicious Inclementia may act; I'm still not certain if he will approach her directly. He may use a decoy. Be on the lookout, though."

"Yes, sir."

For a few minutes, people were leaving and entering, none heading toward the back booth. Saxon had gotten a coffee to sip while she waited. Near toyed with his action figure, childishly making machine gun noises. Rester watched him with suppressed amusement

"S-Saxon?" The hesitant voice made his head snap up.

Saxon looked up and stared at the lanky man before her. He had brown hair the color of mud and light green eyes gleaming with admiration. He had crisp clothes on that looked like he had ironed them twice. Her eyes drifted to behind him momentarily, a nuance of surprise filling her eyes as she saw the monster hovering behind him.

"Yes, I am. You must be my 'blind date.'" She smiled charmingly and his cheeks flushed a little.

He was scrutinizing her, evidently trying to see any wires poking out. The monster suddenly floated closer to her and began to touch her, his claws becoming transparent underneath her clothes. At first, she wasn't certain what he was doing, but when his claws just patted her skin, she understood he was feeling for wires. She did her best to pretend she didn't feel it and after a few moments, he pulled back.

"She's clean." He stated and Inclementia's face grew much friendlier as he sat across from her.

"Thank you for meeting me, Saxon. You don't know how much it means to me." He said breathlessly.

"I'm flattered, but I must ask you to stop killing all these innocent people. They have done nothing."

He frowned slightly. "But, they're stealing your rightful place from you! I'm just trying to help you get it back!"

She shook her head. "I'm not the world's best writer. No one is; it all depends on the readers. Murder is wrong and you know it."

"You are the best!" He argued.

Near watched the banter, amazed by how naive Inclementia seemed to be. Never had he seen a grown man so childishly stubborn about an idol. Mello hadn't even been that blind.

"He can't be serious; there is no way he could so blindly believe such a thing." He muttered to himself.

Saxon sighed and rubbed her temples. "You're missing my point. I don't want you to kill people on my behalf. I want you to stop it. It isn't up to you to decide the worth of authors."

Something suddenly shifted and Inclementia's eyes narrowed. Saxon squirmed uncomfortably under his hardened gaze and Near leaned forward slightly.

"You aren't my Saxon." He suddenly declared, standing up.

"What? Don't be ridiculous." The decoy waved the accusation away with her hand, but her face conveyed nervousness.

"Saxon would never tell me to stop my noble cause! You aren't her!" He pulled out a scrap of paper and began scribbling on it. She watched him in confusion, not registering what was happening and he glowered at her. Near held his breath.

At first, nothing happened, then the decoy screamed. Near cringed and pulled the headset slightly away from his face before demanding, "What is it?"

Her hands scrabbled at her chest before she slumped forward. People in the cafe were quiet for a minute before erupting into panic. Near, having lost his visual, pressed his earpiece.

"Halle, arrest him right now!" He commanded.

The earpiece hissed in his ear before she replied breathlessly, "I-I can't! He disappeared! Dammit, what happened?"

Near popped the head off his Optimus action figure forcefully, not entirely aware he had done so. Rester's eyes were on him and he said, "...Very well. Return to headquarters. Make sure you aren't followed."

"Y-yeah."

He slumped back into his chair and began to twirl his hair tersely. A new plan was being formulated in his head and hopefully, this time he wouldn't be so bold in his next move.

Sam

"The woman posing as Saxon Leroux collapsed in the Quarter Inn earlier today. Witnesses say she was speaking with a dark haired man, though no one saw his face. She then reportedly screamed before dying of a heart attack. Could it be this man was Inclementia?"

She listened to the news in silent horror. She wasn't exactly sure what to think about her double's death. She believed the woman knew what she was getting herself into, but did she ever fully consider death may be inevitable for her?

Sam sighed and leaned back against her sofa, staring out the window to the bright lights of the city. She was having a poetry slump again. She had picked at all her negative emotions until there weren't even bones left. Problem was she still had over fifty poems to do. She groaned in frustration and hugged one of the pillows to her chest.

"I can't wait for this all to be over."

Inclementia

He ran back to his home, locking the door behind him. He was breathing hard and he was now in disarray from his escape. Ryuk floated lazily through the wall and the young man glared at him.

"You're sure we weren't followed?" He panted.

"Yup. No one. Got lucky, I'm pretty sure that decoy had someone watching. Good thing you made the Eye Deal when you did." The shinigami cackled.

Inclementia saw nothing amusing about the situation. He spat, "I can't believe I so foolishly walked into that trap! I need to be more careful. This was too clever to be the local police...it must have been L. Damn! Does that mean she had wires on her? Ryuk! Did you lie to me?"

"Huh? No, I didn't feel any wires." Ryuk dropped an apple into his mouth, munching loudly.

Inclementia suddenly smiled. "I'm glad she wasn't the real Saxon. My Saxon would never trick me like that. Now, I really want to try to find her. But how do I go about it...? I need to think about this some more."

He went into another room and turned on a light before walking over to his armchair. He sat down and wrapped his hands behind his head. Ryuk had floated off to scavenge for more apples, leaving him to think to himself.

Inclementia knew there were only two known links to Saxon: her publisher and the publishing company.

"I could always pose as a new writer and ask to work with her...No, no, they would see right through that. I could threaten her publisher...That could work. But, how do I find her publisher?" He pondered aloud, tapping his skull with his fingers.

He sighed, exasperated he couldn't come up with some sort of solution. He stood up. "I'll just think about it tomorrow. Maybe then something will come to me."

Meanwhile, Ryuk was studying Inclementia's laptop, head tilted slightly to the side. The page was on Saxon's personal website, edited by the publishing company. On it was Tanya's information. He laughed hoarsely, gulping down another apple.

"Hehehe, humans may be interesting, but they sure are stupid." He mused to himself.


	8. Near's Slump

Sam

For the past few weeks, the case had been going nowhere and authors were beginning to drop like flies at an alarming rate. There had been no retaliation from Near and she wasn't sure whether he was stumped or was waiting for the right moment to strike. Frankly, if he was stumped, then the whole situation was screwed.

After the two week mark of her disappearing act, Tanya finally began to visit Sam. Their friendship was closer to professional than anything else, much to Sam's dismay. They only talked about her poetry assignment.

"The company has agreed to put off the deadline, but I suggest you finish it before they change their minds." Tanya had said at one point.

"Yeah, I know."

Sam spent most of her days in her apartment, wandering listlessly around eating and writing. Near hadn't visited her, not that she was expecting him or anything, so human contact was very limited. Then, Tanya bursted into her home in a flurry of excitement.

"Oh, my god, you would not believe what happened to me today!" She shrieked, jumping up and down.

"You had an epiphany and realized I don't have the plague?" Sam asked sarcastically, but was ignored.

"I met a guy! I was out getting coffee and this really handsome man walks over to me and we started talking and we're going to go on a date!"

"Congrats. What's his name and when is this date?" Sam tried to sound excited, but she couldn't help but feel annoyed Tanya only came over out of excitement about her date rather than because she missed Sam.

"His name's Garrison and we're going on a date tomorrow night. He's going to pick me up at my apartment." Tanya casted her a silent request.

"...I'll be there at six." Sam sighed.

Tanya grinned and hugged her quickly before waving. "Thanks, Sam; you're the best! See you tomorrow!"

Just as quickly as she had arrived, she left and Sam tapped her jaw thoughtfully. It's almost strange how quick something like that happened.

Still, she was happy for Tanya and hoped the relationship would last beyond the awkward first date. Then again, Sam didn't know if the first date was awkward; she had never been on a date before, hence her envy. It wasn't like she had no interest in them, she did, but she had a fear of masculinity in all his shapes and forms.

She sat back down on her couch and turned the television on. The news was redundant still; weather, a cat stuck in a tree, murder. There was always the occasional side of robbery thrown in.

"Recently, there have been no moves made by L; in fact, he hasn't sent Watari to speak with Interpol about his flux. In the meantime, Inclementia seems to be working double time as the deaths of authors increases tenfold."

She turned the TV back off and groaned. "Jeez, Near, what the heck happened to you?"

Near

Rester and Halle watched their boss as he uncharacteristically paced back and forth, his socked feet sliding effortlessly over the steel floors. His teeth were worrying at his bottom lip, which was beginning to develop a sore. His hands flopped uselessly at his sides and his toys lay scattered across the room, abandoned. His eyes seemed more lethargic than before as the bruises beneath them darkened.

They didn't know what was happening to him. They weren't sure if he just wasn't motivated enough to continue on with the case or if he was having some sort of trouble.

He in a creative slump. All the plans he formulated were useless or would create unnecessary fatalities. One of them even included Sam; he was going to use her as bait. He was immoral enough to do it, but for some reason, the idea sickened him. He had no desire to drag her in deeper than she already was. Why he felt like that, he had no idea.

_Why can't I come up with a plan that is satisfactory?_ Part of him knew the reason and the other part of him hated himself for even considering it. Mello. He had relied on Mello and now that he didn't have him and his unyielding drive, he was stumbling around in the dark, grasping desperately for something, anything.

He shook his head subconsciously, forcing the useless thoughts out of his head. He stopped pacing and stood like a wan statue.

"...There is approximately a seventy percent chance Inclementia is searching for Saxon's location. Obviously, Saxon's location does not exist. He does not know this and I would like to keep it like that." He thought aloud.

Rester and Halle listened quietly, waiting for him to continue. He slowly went over to his chair, pulled one leg up to his chest, and began to twirl one of his curls.

"However, there is a small percentage he knows Saxon is just a pen name. He will then try to get close to her, most likely in an indirect manner. I've thought about the way he killed the decoy. I believe he made the Eye Deal right then as there was no way he would have been able to kill her without knowing her beforehand. Rester, bring up the Saxon Leroux website."

Rester obeyed and Near rolled over to the screen. He scrolled rapidly through the pages on the site and paused on "Contacts."

"That stupid company." He muttered, placing his feet on the edge of the desk and pushed himself back to his spot.

"Halle, I want you to follow her publisher, Tanya Smith. Go now."

Halle nodded and left the room, the doors sliding shut behind her. Near picked up his headless Optimus. Rester read over the page as well and his eyes widened slightly.

"Near, what are the chances he's already made contact with her?"

"...Roughly sixty, no fifty five percent." Near wasn't looking at him.

"Is that being optimistic?"

"Yes. It looks like I may need to call in the reinforcements after all." He sighed, hoping he would only need to call them in when the situation was despondent.

_It would appear this case has come to exactly that._ He thought forlornly, setting Optimus back down.


	9. Lukewarm Trail

Sam

"No, not the red one, it's too revealing. You're classy, not sleazy."

"That's what you said about the black one!"

"You're misquoting me. I said it was 'suggestive.'"

"You're just jealous I have a figure!"

Sam sighed, choosing to ignore the jab at her apple shaped figure. She had been over Tanya's for the past hour fighting with the older woman about what would be appropriate for the date. They were just going to see a movie, yet Tanya was insisting she should wear a dress.

"Look, it's November. Why would you want to wear a dress now? Besides, all your dresses are more for summer. Just go with jeans or something." Sam said impatiently.

Tanya looked aghast, clutching the silky fabric of a cobalt dress. "Jeans? No, no, that won't do! You should see this guy; he dresses like he has a business meeting to attend to! If I show up in jeans, I'll look like a bum compared to him."

"Then wear your business clothes."

Her publisher paused and contemplated it before nodding. "Yeah, I think you will."

"Thank you!" Sam grumbled softly to herself.

Tanya went into her closet then called, "Sam?"

"What?"

"Should I go with the beige one or the white one? I don't want to wear black; I'll just blend in with the night."

Sam automatically said, "White."

Tanya poked her head out and grinned. "Why? 'Cuz that's what that guy you saw was wearing?"

H-huh? Why would you ask me something like that? I chose white because it's a lot better than beige."

Tanya still remembered seeing Near, though it was a fleeting glimpse. She occasionally badgered Sam about it; Sam wasn't sure how she exactly even remembered him. Then again, Near did stick out like a middle finger to conformity.

"Suuure. I'll go with the white one." Tanya rolled her eyes playfully and got dressed.

"Now, hair up or down?" She looked over at the blonde.

"Up for sure. But, don't put it up in a bun. Maybe a braid." While Sam was giving her opinion, the doorbell rang.

Tanya squealed like a giddy teenage girl. "Ooh, that's him! Go get it! Tell him to come in, but I'm not ready."

Sam reluctantly headed out of the bedroom to the living room. She opened the door and saw the handsome brown haired man wearing crisp clothes standing there. He had a carnation, Tanya's favorite flower, in his hand. His eyes were celery green and when he smiled, his brilliant teeth blinded her.

"Hello, I'm Garrison. Is Tanya here?"

A few minutes later, they were sitting across from each other, the silence both uncomfortable and cumbersome as they waited for Tanya to finish getting ready. His eyes were wandering over the room, flitting over to her once in a while.

"I'm sorry, you didn't tell me your name." He broke the silence, eyes finally landing on her.

She didn't like the way he said it, like she owed him to tell him her name, and for a minute, she almost told him off about it. Instead, she smiled tightly. "I'm Sam."

He stared at something over her head and frowned. Puzzled, she turned around to see what he was staring at, but saw nothing. Weird. Is he like a cat staring at an empty corner like he can see something?

"Are your eyes really purple?"

"That's a rude thing to ask." She blurted out, only looking momentarily sheepish.

His face flushed in perturb and he stammered, "I-I apologize. I've never seen someone with purple eyes before. Other than Saxon Leroux, I mean."

Her foot twitched at the mention of her pen name. "Yeah, they're naturally purple. So, you know about Saxon?"

"Who doesn't nowadays? I liked her before; I'm a fan of her writing." He admitted.

She felt her suspicion rise. She leaned back as casually as she could, feigning ease. Oddly enough, he mimicked her.

"What do you like about her writing?" She asked.

"Oh, everything! The gallows humor, the dialogue! Her stories are always so intricate, I can't help but be immersed by them!" He chattered excitedly, eyes brightening.

_Erm, okay, weird. I wonder if he knows Tanya is Saxon's publisher...This is almost too much to be a coincidence. I had better not blow my cover; who knows what he would do, especially if he's Inclementia._

Sam paused in her head. _No, that isn't fair. Just because he is a fan of Saxon's writing doesn't mean he's Inclementia. He certainly doesn't seem like a killer._

"Sorry it took me so long! I couldn't find my other shoe." Tanya finally walked out of the bedroom, looking more made up than a harlequin jester.

She beamed at Garrison, who returned the smile half heartedly. Sam stood up and called, "Well, I'm leaving, have fun."

She glanced over at Tanya for a minute, but she was too wrapped up in gushing over Garrison. She shook her head and left the apartment, going down the streets.

The November chill was just bordering on wintery, but there was still the smell of rotting, damp leaves swirling with the wind. The streets were illuminated by blinking neon signs of clubs and cars zipping down the roads, bathing everything in surreal flashing of blue, red, and dimming yellow.

"I should really consider getting my permit; I'm starting to get sick of walking everywhere." Sam muttered to herself, shivering as the icy wind caressed the back of her neck where her hair was just short enough not to shelter it.

Drunken laughter sounded from somewhere behind her. Someone had stumbled into a trash can, his friends doing nothing to help him get unstuck. She turned around just enough to look and cracked a smile, though she felt a bit bad for him.

Her apartment building came into view and the doorman opened the door for her, politely welcoming her back. She thanked him and headed up to the penthouse.

After turning on the lights, she went into the kitchen and began to boil a pot of water. She grabbed a pack of ramen. When it was done, she sat on the couch, watching some crime show, and slurped up her noodles.

_I should try to talk to Near; maybe he would know what to do. Then again, I don't have any proof; just my instinct. And I know Near relies on logic rather than intuition. Shoot, I don't even have his number, it's not like I can call him or anything._

"Nothing to do but wait for him to contact me." She decided, setting the bowl in the sink.

She then got ready for another long game of ceiling staring. She was beating the ceiling. For now.

Near

"A man I haven't seen around her entered the building. He was up there for about fifteen minutes. Sam was there as well and just left. He just came down with Tanya." Halle mumbled into her collar, her hawk eyes watching the couple.

Near frowned. _I didn't think he would make a move this soon. I would have thought he would lay low for at least a couple months. He is either very arrogant or incredibly stupid._ "Does he look familiar, Halle?"

"I can't tell from this distance, but I don't dare get closer. Should I-"

"No. Don't endanger your life. Follow them at a safe distance." He interrupted, fiddling with a Rubik's Cube.

"It looks like they're going to see a movie."

He concentrated on the task at hand, shifting the faces rapidly, though boredly. He had solved the puzzle when he was two, but he just needed something to do with his hands. "Go in and sit in the back."

The movie lasted two hours and for two hours, Halle was silent. Near had given the Rubik's Cube to Rester, who was staring at it like it was some sort of foreign object to him. Near began to twirl his hair, patiently waiting for Halle to respond. Even he was startled when she finally did after growing accustomed to the quiet.

"They're just left the theater and are heading back to her apartment building. They don't look too cozy, though." Halle stated.

"Care to explain?"

"He seems a little cold; his body language is completely shut off from her, but she doesn't seem to be getting the message. She keeps trying to grab his hand, but he just yanks it back. To be honest, he didn't seem that interested in her to begin with." Halle surmised.

Near paused his twirling, taking in the information. _Why would one go out with someone they aren't even interested in? It just doesn't add up. Who am I to judge that situation, though? I will need another's input._

He turned his head to look over at Rester, who had finally given up on the Cube. He had only gotten two faces uniform.

"Rester, what is your opinion on what Halle just said?" He inquired.

Rester looked at him, surprised. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Near sighed and replied dryly, "Please don't make me spell it out for you. I know you were listening to what Halle said. Give me your opinion; do you think his behavior is odd?"

"Oh! Well, yes. Normally, people don't go on dates with someone they don't like. Not counting Yagami, of course."

Then my initial thoughts were accurate. If he's like Light Yagami, then he could be using Tanya Smith to get to Saxon. "His chance of being Inclementia at this point are rather high. Have you heard his name?"

"No, not yet. Okay, they both went up to the apartment. Should I wait?"

"Yes. If he comes back down, follow him until he gets to his house."

Halle nodded and replied, "Alright...He just came down."

"Well, that was a short visit. He probably just walked her to the elevator." Rester said.

Halle began to follow the man, always keeping in with a crowd, just in case he felt like he was being followed. He never once looked behind him and his pace was slow and confident. He walked for a while, almost to the suburbs, but he turned to a large building and disappeared inside. Halle stopped and pressed her collar to her mouth again.

"He just went into a building."

Near tapped his knee. "What's the address?"

"114 Crescent Ave."

He nodded approvingly. "Good work, Halle. You can return to headquarters."

"Yes, sir." She turned off her wire and Near removed his headset, setting it down on the metal table in front of him.

He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. Looks like I'm back on track, even if I am possibly miles behind Inclementia. I'll still bring him to justice by any means necessary.

Tanya

He was polite enough to walk her back home, but unwilling to go up to her apartment with her. Instead, he opted to walk her to the elevator and grabbed her waist, pulling her into his body. To any passerbys, it looked like a loving embrace, but to her, it felt like he was trying to crush her.

His lips were against her ear as he hissed, "Remember what I said. And if you even think about telling someone about it, I'll kill you. It'll be the moment when you least expect it, too."

"I-I understand." She whispered shakily.

He released her and smiled down at her. She pictured maggots pushing his perfect teeth out. "I'll speak with you tomorrow and we can set up the meeting then."

He turned and left without another word. Tanya went to the elevator, taking deep breaths through her mouth as she tried to calm herself. When she was alone, though, she bursted into a nervous, sobbing mess. She hugged herself and whispered, "Please forgive me, God, for what I am about to do."


	10. Inclementia

Sam

She hadn't spoken to Tanya yet about the date. It was odd; she had expected her to call her the minute she got in the door and chatted with her until her ears bled from all the corny happenings of the night. Part of her expected Tanya to pull yet another disappearing act and not bother to talk to her for the next couple weeks.

A couple days later, though, her cell phone began to ring. She had just finished eating lunch and was placing her dishes in the dishwasher. She looked over at where it was lying on the coffee table.

"Huh?" She walked over and picked it up. "Corbitt residence, Samantha speaking."

"It's Tanya. How about you come over right now? We haven't hung out together for a while."

"Uhh, sure. I'll be over soon."

Tanya hung up without saying goodbye and Sam frowned at her phone. Her voice had seemed off. However, she paid it no mind and pulled her coat on, leaving the building and heading to Tanya's apartment.

She got to the door and knocked. "Tanya, it's me." She called.

"It's open."

Sam paused before slowly opening the door. "Tan, you feeling okay? You sound like you have a cold or something."

She turned to face the apartment and looked around. Tanya was standing before her, eyes red rimmed and swollen. Sam frowned.

"What's wrong? Were you crying? Ugh, what did that guy do?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Tanya sniffled. "Oh, no, he didn't do anything. I had a really nice time with him; he's polite and charming. Sorry, it's just that time of the month."

"Oh...well, okay. So, what do you want to do?" Sam walked closer to her.

Something was weird about the whole situation; Tanya never cried when it was that time of the month and she certainly wouldn't admit to it, either.

"S-so, how've you been?" Tanya asked.

_She's trying to distract me...Can she sense my wariness? I'll play along for now._

"Fine. I'm almost done with the poems. I just need to do ten more. What about you? How did the date go?"

"I had a lot of fun. The movie was good. He's good company." Tanya smiled shakily.

_Liar. Tanya, what's going on? This isn't like you. I should think of a way to get out of here._

"I have errands I need to run; I'm starting to run low on groceries. We can hang out later." Sam began to back off, smiling apologetically.

"W-wait! You can't leave yet!" Tanya moved too quickly toward her and Sam leapt back from her, but she kept her face puzzled.

"Huh? Why?"

Tanya paused, arm outstretched toward her. "B-because...Umm, because I want your opinion on something!"

"I'm sorry, but I should really get going; before it's too late, y'know?" Sam turned around and began to walk toward the door.

Something struck her in the back of the head. Her brain rattled inside her skull and she fell forward, unable to catch herself. She sat up a little, gripping her head as she brought her knees close. She stared up at Tanya incredulously. She was holding a baseball bat that seemed to have manifest into thin air. She looked horrified at what she had done, but there was something wild in her eyes that caused Sam to scramble back from her like a frightened animal.

"T-Tan, w-what'd you do that for?" She asked, too astounded to sound angry.

"I-I'm sorry you can't leave yet. And if I have to use brute force to keep you here t-then I will!" She held the bat up in warning.

Sam struggled back to her feet, using the wall for support. "Why are you doing this?"

"H-he's making me do it. I-i-if I don't, he'll kill me!" Tanya exclaimed, tears beginning to spring from her eyes.

_I can't tell if she's going to kill me or not...And who is 'he' supposed to be? No...there's just no way-_

The door opened to her left and both women stared at the newcomer. It was Garrison. He looked surprised when he saw the bat.

"Please tell me you didn't hit her with that thing. I don't want her brains scrambled!" He scowled disapprovingly.

Tanya ignored the scolding and stammered, "I-I did what you asked...please...don't kill me!"

Sam watched the exchange with wide eyes. I-I think I see. She's swapping me in exchange for her keeping her life.

Garrison laughed, an odd chilling noise. "Sorry. You're expendable."

Tanya's eyes widened in fear, but he paid her no mind as he watched Sam.

"Forgive me, Miss Leroux, but I'm going to need you to sleep for a bit." He knelt in front of her, shoving a white cloth into her face.

She let out a shocked noise as she breathed in the chloroform before she slumped against him, unconscious.

Inclementia

Ryuk had stayed at the house, deciding to play video games while he waited for his human to return. Video games were much more interesting than following some psychotic human around, he reasoned. Besides, there was only so much he could take with Garrison constantly mumbling about Saxon Leroux.

**I don't even see the appeal. Apples are way better than some author. Reading is boring anyway. I don't know how humans have the patience for it.**

The door swung open and in waltzed Garrison, carrying a body. Ryuk paused the game and followed him upstairs where he laid the body on the bed. Ryuk hovered over the brown haired man and saw it was a girl. She's kinda cute.

Garrison tenderly dressed the woman. Her eyes were closed, but both could still see her name and lifespan, though the numbers on her lifespan were slightly lowered. Huh. Does that mean he's going to kill her, or did something happen before he kidnapped her? He didn't really care, but he liked speculating, a habit he had picked up from Light.

Ryuk tilted his head to the side when he couldn't guess who the girl was. It certainly isn't that fat one he went out with a few days ago.

"Hey, Garrison...who's the girl?" He asked.

Garrison pulled out lipstick, carefully applying it to the girl's lips. The color reminded the Shinigami of McIntosh apples; his favorite. "This is her."

It took him a minute to figure out who "her" was. "Huh? But, before she had-"

"It was a wig. At first, I was disappointed, but when I saw her...she is even cuter without the wig. And her eyes are naturally purple. Can you believe that? Purple!" He fixed the strap to the gray dress.

Ryuk didn't say anything, contemplating if she would look cute in an apple suit.

Garrison stroked her bangs lovingly out of her face. "Isn't she beautiful? I just couldn't wait any longer. I had to have her."

"Does that mean you're going to stop killing?"

"No, no. I'm going to continue. You know what my goal is. It hasn't changed just because I have her." He took a step back to admire his work before nodding approvingly.

"C'mon, Ryuk; I got you some more apples. They're in the kitchen." Garrison beckoned, walking out of the room, and closing the door behind him.

Ryuk went through the wall and followed Garrison to the kitchen. There was a pile of apples sitting on the table, which he hungrily set to work on.

"So, what are you going to do when she panics?" He asked, voice muffled from the apples in his mouth.

Garrison frowned as though he didn't understand. "When she panics? What do you mean? She's not going to panic; she'll be ecstatic she finally gets to meet her best fan!"

"How do you know that for certain?"

"Since when do you care, Ryuk? It doesn't benefit you in anyway, so why bother asking?" Garrison snapped, beginning to grow impatient with the shinigami's uncharacteristic prying.

Ryuk backed off and couldn't help but think,** She isn't going to like waking up in such an unfamiliar environment...Hyuk, hyuk, this might make things a little more interesting...**


	11. Near's Guests

Sam

When she finally came to, all she could feel was the fluid like sheets against her bare legs. She sat slowly up and looked around, her breath catching in her throat when she didn't recognize where she was. The room was darkened, the blinds closed, but some dying light was streaking through the gaps. The walls were painted blood red and she was sitting on a four poster bed with light blue sheets and quilts. There were several dressers and three doors, one to a walk in closet, another a bathroom, and the final one to another room she presumed.

Sam then realized she was in a gray dress similar to the one she used to wear back at Wammy's. She was disturbed by the image of someone undressing her and redressing her. She licked her dry lips and tasted lipstick. Looking around warily, she slowly placed one foot on the white, plush carpet. When nothing happened, she put her other foot down and stood up. The room spun momentarily and she stumbled toward one of the doors. Her hand was about to touch the brass door knob when it began to turn. Startled, Sam nearly lost her balance in her haste to step back. Garrison sauntered in, exuding confidence. He was wearing a black button up shirt, a pair of khaki pants, but was barefoot. Studying his wiry arms, Sam suspected that he could be strong, or at least strong enough to easily overpower her, and he had a bright smile on his face.

"You're up! Good, I just finished making dinner." His voice was like gravel and it made her cringe.

"W-where am I?" She stammered, backing up from him warily.

He smacked his forehead and looked appalled with himself. "How rude of me! You are at my home!"

_I-I had been right; he must be Inclementia._

Sam's face drained of what little color she had. "Y-you're Inclementia?"

He nodded and frowned when he saw the look on her face. "Oh, you mustn't be afraid of me, Saxon! I don't want to hurt you; I could never think of harming you."

As he said this, he reached out, stroking her face with a calloused thumb. She shrank back fearfully. He pretended not to notice and grabbed her arm firmly, but still tenderly as he made her leave the room, leading her down a hall and to a dining room.

There were two places set up and a large candle holder in the middle, all the candles gold and lit. The plates were plain, but no doubt expensive. He pulled her chair out for her, making her sit, and went to sit across from her. She stared at the food on the plate. It looked like steak, a baked potato, and carrots.

"Dig in!" Garrison encouraged.

Sam hesitated a moment longer before slowly cutting a small piece off. She placed it in her mouth and chewed warily, uncertain if he had spiked it or not. It was actually rather good, but she wasn't going to admit it to her kidnapper. However, it must have shown on her face because he only beamed and began to eat as well.

She couldn't figure him out. He seemed like a well brought up man; kind, polite; and obviously wealthy. Was he really Inclementia?

"I'm glad that the dinner is to your satisfaction. I wasn't sure if you liked steak, but I guess I did well." He broke the silence after he had finished his first bite.

"W-what did you do with Tanya?"

"I properly disposed of her."

Sam dropped her fork and stared at him, wide eyed. Her bottom lip trembled and she felt tears well up. Garrison seemed taken aback.

"W-what is it?" He asked, alarm in his voice.

"Y-you killed her...?"

He nodded, now beginning to look confused. She let out a little wail, clamping her mouth with her hands. "W-why? S-she had a family...A sister! S...she didn't do anything to deserve that!"

When she said that last sentence, she knew it was partially true. Sure, she had betrayed Sam, but very few people wouldn't do the same to save their own skin. It all came down to human nature. I'm not mad at her. He's a bully; it isn't her fault.

Garrison looked morose, not because of his killing, but because he had upset his idol. He went over and took one of her hands. "I-I'm sorry! It's just...she got in the way!"

Sam wrenched her hand from him and stood up quickly. "Don't touch me!"

He looked hurt. "I really am sorry..."

"Sorry isn't going to bring her back!" She snapped.

His face suddenly lost its remorse as he pursed his lips into a tight, thin line. He smacked her across the face. The blow startled her and she fell to the ground. She let out a little gasp, having never been smacked before, and stared up at him with wide eyes. He knelt down and grabbed a handful of her sunny locks and tugged harshly. She squeaked in pain, his hot breath on her ear.

"I go out of my way to bring you to my home, I give you nice clothes, I feed you, and you repay me by yelling at me? Saxon, I am your biggest fan and I love you dearly. However, you will be punished if you act out. Am I understood?" He whispered dangerously.

She whimpered and whispered back, "Y-yes, I understand."

He released her hair. "Good. Now, get back up and finish your dinner."

She quietly did as she was told, nibbling on her steak. He went back to his place, the dark cloud suddenly gone.

When they were both done, Garrison led her back to his room, closing the door after her. He pushed her onto the bed and sat on her hips. She stared up at him with doe eyes brimming with fear.

"You're so beautiful." Garrison whispered.

"W-what do you want with me?"

"I just want you." He crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss.

Near

"Thirty year old Tanya Smith has died of a heart attack in her home. She is best known as Saxon Leroux's publisher. Investigators went to her apartment after neighbors complained about loud voices and the sound of bodies hitting the floor. There was a bloodied bat in Smith's hand, though at this time, police are uncertain if it is the attacker's blood."

"Police went to Miss Leroux's penthouse, but it seems that she has gone missing. An investigation has began to search for the aspiring author. Many believe that this is the work of Inclementia; could it be that he has finally decided to kidnap Leroux-" The reporter was suddenly cut off as the monitor turned blank.

Then, the word Inclementia appeared. The scrambled voice began to speak. "This is Inclementia. It is true: I have taken Saxon Leroux to my home. She is alive and well, I have no desire to harm her whatsoever, however, I will not hesitate in doing so if my conditions are not agreed upon. Interpol, you must stop the investigation of Miss Leroux's sudden disappearance. And L, you must abandon the case. As I said, if my conditions are not agreed upon, I will not hesitate harming her. You have forty eight hours to respond."

Rester, Near, and Halle listened and watched the broadcast in shocked horror. Halle hesitantly asked, "Near...what are we going to do?"

The young man didn't answer, still staring at the now black monitor. Rester and Halle could see his expression and it disturbed them. Only once had they seen this particular facial expression: when America gave in to Kira. They knew that the boy was livid at that time, but he never emotionally acted on it. Now, though, he looked like he was ready to kill the nearest thing to him. Halle scooted out of the way just in case he decided to act out. Near suddenly stood up and kicked his dice tower over viciously, the thousands of white faces tumbling and hitting the tiled floor loudly. The sound echoed throughout the room, snapping through the stunned silence like firecrackers.

"That cocksucker. Using her as a bargaining chip; it's a lose-lose situation for both of us." He growled out, voice like knives.

He looked at Rester and Halle, both flinching away from his eyes. The normal blank gray eyes were a deadly shade of black, his anger radiating from them. He commanded coldly, "Rester, pick my dice up."

Without another word, he stormed out of the room, the metal doors sliding shut behind him. The two subordinates sat in uneasy silence before Rester asked, "What do you think he's going to do?"

Halle met his gaze. "I'm not sure, but if he used 'cocksucker' and 'chicken shit' in the same breath, you can expect he isn't going to take this lying down."

The two looked at the dice. Both realized in revulsion that a majority of the dice were stuck with snake eyes. Neither took it as a promising sign.


	12. Motivation

Sam

Inclementia watched the news intently for the past two days, leaning forward excitedly with his elbows resting on his knees. Sam was curled up beside him, not daring to move a muscle. Though he promised he wouldn't harm her, that didn't control his explosive anger if she even so much as moved the wrong way. She was hugging her knees to her chest, staring at the TV as well.

"L has chosen to respond to Inclementia's warning and we have the video he asked us to show." The reporter stated, the screen flicking to white, the "L" appearing in the center.

The synthesized voice began to speak after a few heartbeats. "I have considered Inclementia's threat carefully over the past couple days. And...I will agree to his terms. I will abandon the case and Interpol will stop investigating."

Sam's heart stopped at the words. _There goes my last hope. Is he really giving up?_

She couldn't help but feel a little betrayed by him. She thought that L was supposed to be unyielding, even when times were grim. That must have only applied to the original L, she thought sullenly.

He grinned over at her. "Looks like you're all mine."

Sam didn't say anything, fiddling with her hands apprehensively.

During those two days, he continued to kill authors and disappeared during the day time. Sam would be locked in the room, however, Garrison was kind enough to leave her paper, a pen, and books to occupy herself with.

He liked to hit her. She was treading on glass with him; if she did even the slightest thing wrong, she would be punished. Right after, he always apologized, but he insisted she drove him to that point. His mood swings were starting to give her whiplash as she struggled to keep up with him.

Garrison stood up and she immediately did so as well. He blinked approvingly and declared, "I'm going out."

He grabbed her arm tightly, ignoring her small whimper, and dragged her to the room, throwing her inside.

"Stay in here until I get back." He said unnecessarily, leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

She sighed and slumped down against the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. "Now what am I going to do? My last hope just flew out the window! Stupid Near. I dunno why I was relying on him to rescue me anyway. He doesn't even like me that much."

Yet as she said that, she didn't feel like it was the whole truth. _He must care about me at least a little. I mean, he did tell me to be careful before...On the other hand, he always lies to me._

"Hmph, well, I don't need him! I'll get out by myself!" She declared obstinately, crossing her arms. "I just need to come up with some sort of plan..."

Near

He was partially telling the truth when he sent that video, agreeing to give up. He wasn't going to work on the case as avidly as he did prior, but he would have someone working under him, other than Halle and Rester, investigate the case for him. Inclementia is stupid enough to fall for a trick like this, too. There is no err in this plan.

"Near, your 'guests' have arrived." Halle said, looking at the monitor.

"Let them in."

Rester pushed the button on the intercom. "Enter."

The two figures didn't move and Rester and Halle frowned. Near didn't blink, turning around just in time for the metal doors to hiss open. The two waltzed in like they owned the room, stopping in the center.

They were a man and a woman. The man had cinreal hair that fell in a halo of disarray around his face, the choppy ends ending at his chin. His eyes were a shade of dull amber. His face was horribly scarred with three slash marks just below his left eye. Another began at the corner of his right eye and went diagonally across his face, stopping at the left side of his jaw. More scars littered his body and directly beneath his collarbone a crude "B" was etched permanently into his ashy skin. He had a hat on and more chains and bracelets than Near could count. His shirt collar was popped and his jeans were ripped. On his feet were frayed combat boots.

The woman looked better than her companion physically, but her attire was more eccentric. Her blonde hair reached her waist and her eyes were russet. She wore a white top hat with red ribbons crawling over it. It was tilted over her right eye. She had on a matching jacket and underneath the jacket was an olive green Gothic dress that fanned out to her knees. She wore brown lace up boots and white lacy gloves on her hands.

"How did you-" Rester began to ask, but the other man cast him an irate look.

"Christ, how long does it take you to open the damned door? We were freezing our asses off! We weren't going to wait out there forever. We hacked into the camera and looped old footage of us waiting out there. Your system is too easy."

"Avon, Noxa. Welcome." Near didn't seem put-off by the man's crude language or by the rude gesture he had been given.

"Sorry about Avon; he's a bit cranky. Didn't have enough vodka on the way over." The woman, Noxa, giggled childishly.

"Near, would you like to explain who these two are and why they're here?" Halle inquired, wrinkling her nose at the two in distaste.

"This is Avon and Noxa. Like Aiber and Wedy in the past, they work in the underground with the recent L. Avon's specialty is infiltration and escaping. Noxa is a weapons specialist and adept at medicinal practices. These two are going to help us take down Inclementia." He explained.

Avon held up his right hand. "Hold up. We didn't agree to anything yet. There's still the matter of money."

"Of course. I've already taken the liberty of setting up a fund for you. The fund is set for half a million. You won't be receiving all of it until you play your parts, however, there is half in the account."

The two exchanged a look before nodding in agreement. Near continued, "I'm sure you both have read the information I sent you."

They nodded again and Noxa asked, "I don't get it, though. If you already know his address, then why not just arrest him without our help?"

"Because there is a small chance he has not taken her there. Avon, I want you to infiltrate the building. Noxa and Rester will be nearby for support should you need it. Be wary; I have told you about the notebook and the Eye Deal. Do not let him see your face."

Avon rolled his eyes. "Hell, if I can survive B's crazy ass, then I can survive anything. If he has the Shinigami eyes as well, it shouldn't be a problem."

Near lifted his hand up to twirl his hair. With these two, this case may just be nearing the end.

"You know the address, correct?" He asked.

"114 Crescent Ave." Noxa and Avon chorused together.

"Rester will take you there right now. Please wear an earpiece so that we may communicate."

Rester handed them both an earpiece and the three left. Once she was certain they were gone, Halle questioned, "Near...are you certain they can be trusted?"

"Yes. Unlike Mello, they won't aim a gun at my head. Or rather, I can trust Noxa won't do that. Avon's a different case."

Halle sighed inwardly. She was hoping there wouldn't be a repeat with that. Something told her Avon wouldn't hold back, either.

"'Kay, I'm in the house." Avon's voice crackled through Near's headset.

"Look around to see if there's any signs of him or the hostage." Near ordered.

"Don't see a point in that."

Near frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The building's abandoned. Looks like no one's lived here in years. It's all dusty and- ugh, I just walked into a fucking cobweb! Dammit, Near, are you sure he walked into this building?" Avon cursed and it sounded like he kicked something over.

"Yes. I am certain. This doesn't add-" Near cut himself off, eyes widening in realization.

"He knew he was being trailed. And here I thought he was an idiot." He murmured, tugging his hair a little roughly. "Return here as soon as possible. We'll think of something else."

"Yeah. Right." Avon turned his earpiece off and went back to where Noxa and Rester were waiting for him.

Back to square one. I can't believe I was foolish enough to underestimate him. Near cursed himself as he felt his anger beginning to return.

_These emotions are beginning to get the better of me. I'm not remaining objective to this case; it's that stupid girl. If she wasn't-_ He paused. If she wasn't what? He had chosen to speak to her at Wammy's. It wasn't fair he took his confusion out on her. He wasn't even certain why he was confused. She didn't mean anything to him. She was only a victim whose life is in danger. 'Yeah. You keep telling yourself that.' A voice in his head stated scathingly, mocking his logic. He sighed and Halle looked over at him. "Is something wrong?" She asked.

It took him a while to answer. "Yes. I just haven't figured out what's wrong yet."

Sam

Later that night, Sam was in the kitchen doing the dishes. She accidentally dropped one and the whole thing splintered into tiny glass fragments. Garrison snapped.

He pushed her to the ground, yelling, "You clumsy bitch! How dare you!"

"I-I'm sor-" He slapped her hard across the face, silencing her.

"I told you not to speak unless spoken to!"

She tasted the iron in her blood. Her bangs covering her eyes, she spat, "You were speaking to me. Or are you as dumb as you are insane?"

Garrison's eyes widened and hers did as well. She scrambled back from him, but he kicked her in the head. She whimpered and he kicked her in the ribs. She heard the sickening snap and screamed. The blows didn't stop and she curled up as tightly as she could, hoping they would end soon. They did, only to be replaced with his large hands wrapped around her throat.

Sam choked as he cut off her airways. Her hands scrabbled for something, anything, to help save her. She felt one of the shards of glass, picked it up, and pierced his cheek. He screamed and released her. Massaging her throat, she kicked him back from her and got to her feet, stumbling out of the house through the back door in the kitchen.

She ran down the street and felt a wave of panic when she saw no other houses. The yellow moon leered overhead as she ran down the poorly lit steets. Her fear drove her to keep running, her mind sending image after image of what would lay ahead of her if she didn't keep moving. She didn't notice the large pothole and she tripped, her ankle snapping. She cried out and fell on her face, her knees and hands scraped up. She could feel hot blood and she curled up in a tiny ball, sobbing.

Thunder and lightning crackled overhead, illuminating the sky briefly. The air smelled like electricity and rain and a drop hit her cheek. It began to downpour, soaking her to the bone. The frigid air made the moisture that hit her skin freeze. Sam shivered violently, feeling weaker and weaker. Her teeth chattered and she buried her face in her arms, shutting her eyes tightly.


	13. Caution

Near

He knew he was never going to hear the end of it as Avon whined his grievances.

"Honestly, I thought you were supposed to be L! The real L would have considered the possibility his suspect believed to have a tail on him! God, I bet Mello would have thought of it; at least he knew how to think like a criminal!" He was on a roll.

Near inwardly cringed at the mention of his former rival. Yes. Mello always was good at placing himself in the criminals' shoes, of course, that was most likely because he was a criminal himself.

"Well, sadly, Mello's dead; you're just going to have to deal with me. So sorry to disappoint you." Near replied dryly, face devoid of emotion.

Noxa nudged Avon disapprovingly. "Now, look what you did? You upset him. Apologize."

"Pfft, forget that! Why should I apologize? He needs to have a fuckin' reality check!"

Noxa's eyes flashed and suddenly she was twirling her Beretta 92 around her index finger. She stopped, cocking it, and aiming it at Avon. "Apologize or I'll repaint the room with your brain."

Both Near and Avon were accustomed to Noxa's homicidal tendencies. The problem, though, she was hardly ever idle when it came to her threats.

Avon visibly gulped and turned to Near. "...Sorry."

It was scathingly insincere, but it satisfied Noxa and she concealed her gun once more.

"Good. Now, do you have any ideas, Near?" She asked, face and voice composed as though she hadn't just threatened her accomplice's life.

Near twirled his hair and added another die. He was remaking the Eiffel Tower. He was no architectural genius, but he thought it looked quite like the original.

"...He knows about the BB murder cases...If I count that, no, I don't have any ideas."

Everyone was shocked at his blatant admittance to having no clue on what to do. Even during the Kira case, he never admitted to not knowing what to do even when it was so obvious to everyone else. Avon grudgingly thought, This guy is completely useless. He doesn't have the drive to be L.

"You need motivation." Avon said aloud.

Near glanced at him in puzzlement. "Motivation?"

"Yeah. If you don't come up with any ideas, that girl's blood is on your hands. That motivating enough?" Avon asked acrimoniously, his nose wrinkled up.

Near stopped his twirling and his hand twitched. Just like that, his Eiffel Tower was scattered around him. A dice landed in his lap. Snake eyes.

Avon was right. Sam would die if he didn't act fast. But, how could he act when he wasn't sure what to do?

Sam

The ground rumbled softly as a car approached. The car lights hit her still frame and it slid to a stop. It was a sleek black Town car. The driver's door opened and Roger got out.

"Oh, no!" He jogged over to her, taking his jacket off and wrapped her in it. He slid his arm under the bend of her knees and wrapped his other hand behind her neck, scooping her up with a bit of a struggle. His old arms weren't used to carrying such a burden and his bones ached with protestation.

She curled up into the warmth of the jacket. He shuddered for a minute when her arctic flesh was pressed against him. Her eyelashes were frozen together and her lips had a purple tinge to them. Her skin was blue and she had frost in her hair. He hurried to his car, placing her in the passenger seat. He fastened her in and pressed his fingers against the side of her throat. A vein slowly, but surely pushed against his finger. He closed the door and ran to the driver's side. He got in and turned the heat on full blast as he pulled out a phone.

"I found her...She's half frozen, but she has a pulse...About ten miles out of the city...I don't think she'll make it if I try to get there. Noxa?...I suppose so. Tell her to meet me at the safe-house." Roger said, forehead creased in worry as he threw the car in reverse before hanging up.

He glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye before focusing on the road. "Just hang on, Sam."

He drove into a nearby city, picked Sam back up, and went into a large building.

Noxa was already there, her jacket and hat off. Her eyes widened when they saw him and the frozen girl.

"Oh, no. Is she...?"

"She's still alive. Can you give her a bath and warm her up?" He requested.

"Of course." She walked over and effortlessly took Sam out of the old man's arms.

She carried Sam to the bathroom, setting her carefully down on the toilet. Her eyelids fluttered but otherwise she didn't move. She closed the door behind her and unlaced the laces of Sam's dress, gently peeling the dress from her body. She made a nervous noise in the back of her throat when she saw the bruises and cuts all over Sam's body.

"Near isn't going to be happy about that...Oh, well! I can have Avon break it to him!"

Sam shivered from the cold air hitting her naked body and Noxa turned the bath on, making sure the water was hot. She manage to get the other girl into the tub and turned the water off when it came to the girl's shoulders.

"Poor thing..." She murmured softly as she carefully washed Sam's sensitive skin, the sponge barely touching her.

Noxa cupped water in her hands and slowly poured it over Sam's head. When she thought the other was clean and warm enough, she drained the tub and wrapped a towel around her.

She picked Sam back up and took her an empty bedroom. Noxa grabbed a pair of her underwear and tenderly dressed her in a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. She bandaged Sam's scraped up hands and knees, wrapped up her ankle and torso as carefully as she could. She managed to get her under the covers and tucked her in.

Inclementia

He threw things, he punched a hole in his wall. All because of his mistake. he ripped the glass from his cheek. Ryuk hovered nearby, watching Garrison throw the largest tantrum the Shinigami had ever seen before. This is almost as bad as Light's when he finally died. Maybe I should write his name in the notebook...

When he was too tired to carry on, he flopped down against the kitchen cabinets, his chest heaving. Ryuk decided against his initial thought. Nah, he hasn't gotten caught yet. Only then will I write his name. He still has some fight in him.

"That...that bitch. After all I did for her..." He trailed off, his fingers brushing the edge of the wound on his cheek.

"So what now?" Ryuk couldn't help but ask, curiosity overwhelming him.

"...Enough with the authors. This time I'm killing her." Garrison decided, a dark look passing over his face.

Ryuk let out his signature raspy laugh, noting that Garrison's facial expression was uncannily similar to Light's. Garrison dug his fingers into the wound and shoved one into his mouth, tasting his blood.


	14. A Deadly Turn

Sam

The bed's springs were digging uncomfortably into her back, but she didn't want to move or open her eyes. She was afraid to see where she was. There were noises coming from the other room and she thought she heard muffled voices. Sam dared herself to open her eyes. The ceiling was unfamiliar. She sat up slowly, but cringed when her rib twinged violently. The room was dingy, yet still nice at the same time. There was a dresser on one side of the room and the bed was a full size. There was a distinct smell hovering around the room as well; female perfume.

The door opened and Halle walked in carrying a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of milk. She blinked, seemingly surprised to see Sam sitting up, but then she smiled softly.

"How are you feeling?" She asked gently, setting the glass on a nightstand and carefully handing the bowl to Sam.

"B-better...where am I?" She looked around the room again.

"You're at one of our safe-houses. Watari was on his way to our main headquarters when he found you in the middle of the road half frozen. He brought you back here and Noxa gave you a bath and some warm clothes. She tended to your wounds as well. You have a sprained ankle and a cracked rib, so you need to be careful. Eat; it'll warm you up some more." Halle nodded her head at the bowl.

Sam looked down at it before picking up the spoon and carefully put some in her mouth. It tasted like cinnamon and cream, making her mouth water. She shoveled more in while Halle watched her. The door opened and Near walked in. He went to the edge of her bed and knelt beside her. His eyes were blank, but the wrinkles around the corners of his mouth showed his worry.

"You're alright." He murmured, reassuring himself.

He looked over at Halle. "I would like to speak with Sam in private."

Halle nodded and walked out of the room. Sam watched as he grabbed a chair and pulled it so he was sitting directly beside her.

"Do you know how long you have been held hostage?"

"A-a few days, I think."

"Correct. Now, I want you to tell me what happened the day he kidnapped you."

Sam frowned, trying to recollect what happened. "It was, um, the day after Tanya went out on a date. Tanya called me asking if I could come over, only she didn't sound okay. I thought she was sick or something so I agreed and went over. She was waiting for me and we talked for a few minutes before I began to grow suspicious. I tried to leave, b-but she hit me on the head with a baseball bat. T-then, her date, Garrison came in and he forced me to inhale chloroform. I passed out and when I woke up, I was on a bed in a large room. He had changed my clothes and came in."

She swallowed thickly and looked nervously at Near. He gestured for her to go on.

"A-at first, he was kind of nice, but I was still afraid of him. Then, he told me he killed Tanya and I flipped out on him. He smacked me a-and kissed me really hard and said I belonged to him. Oh...and he bit my neck." She touched where teeth marks were, the wound still prominent.

Near's eyes flickered to it. "Did he do anything else?"

She bit her lip and hesitated too long for it to sound truthful. "No."

"Do not lie to me, Samantha." He said sharply.

A drop of blood oozed from her lip and she licked it away nervously. "I-I don't want to say..."

He leaned toward her, his eyes smoldering. "You must tell me. It will help further his prosecution. Did he abuse you in other ways? Did he touch you? Raped you?"

She cringed and he leaned back, mouth drawn into a thin line. "...I see. When...?"

"T-t-two nights ago..." She looked down at her hands.

His fists clenched and she suddenly whispered, "Why...why did it take you so long?"

He mumbled, "I was having a hard time coming up with a satisfactory plan. I was trying, really I was, but he covered his tracks well."

"H-he hurt me and you weren't there!" She looked up at him, eyes filling up.

Near looked into her eyes and felt a pang. A pang he had not felt since Mello's death. Sadness. He never realized until that moment how much Sam seemed to need him. Another feeling, this one completely foreign, joined his sadness. It was a bittersweet combination.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, holding her close to him. Sam had let out a startled little gasp, but relaxed into his embrace, her cheek pressed against his heart. It was beating rapidly. One of his hands went to the back of her head and gently stroked her hair.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

She sniffled and buried her face in his chest.

* * *

><p>She woke up with warm, thick covers wrapped snuggly around her body. She let out a little whine, wishing to return to her restful sleep, her eyes still closed. She noticed she felt a weight on her waist and opened her eyes sleepily. Her eyebrow twitched in surprise when she saw Near was sleeping beside her. His arms were wrapped around her waist and his head rested on the pillow beside hers. His face was relaxed and his mouth was partially opened as he breathed. Sam blushed a little and tried to scoot out of his arms, but he only pulled her closer until they were nose to nose.<p>

"Hello, Sam." He murmured, eyes still closed.

She blushed more. "Y-you're awake?"

"Mm. Been awake for ten minutes now." He lazily opened one eye and she pulled herself away from him, looking embarrassed.

Sam sat up as did Near, who studied her face. He read every twitch, every change in emotion in her eyes, and the way she bit her lip as she looked shyly away from him. In the short time that their eyes did meet, he noted that her pupils were dilated. He had read somewhere that when someone liked another, their pupils would dilate. He never believed it, but after judging the lighting in the room, not dark enough for her pupils to be that large, he was beginning to doubt his disbelief.

"Why are you embarrassed? It's normal for a man and a woman to sleep together." Near stated.

Sam's face darkened in color and she stammered, "I-I think you're misunderstanding that nature...I-I just didn't think you would want me to sleep in the same bed. I'm sorry if I caused you any inconvenience..."

He frowned. "You don't cause me inconvenience. Besides, it isn't like I sleep. I'm surprised I was able to. Anyway, we should get up. I need to start on the case again."

Sam nodded and the two got out of the bed. However, she forgot about her injured ankle and let out a sharp gasp of pain, about to hit the ground when pale arms wrapped around her.

"I forgot about your ankle..." He picked her up and set her back on the bed. "I want you to stay in bed for the day."

"B-but-"

He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "No arguments. Stay in bed. I will have Halle or Noxa come up with breakfast for you shortly. If you need anything, just press the button on the intercom and either Rester or Halle will come up to assist you."

He handed her the remote to the TV and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly. Sam sighed, cringing as her ribs expanded, and nestled under the covers, burying her face in the pillow. It smelled like vanilla and sugar and Near. She tried adjusting herself more comfortably.

The last time she had been forced to suffer through bedrest was when she was eight. She had been afflicted with pneumonia and the nuns at the orphanage she was staying at during the time twittered nervously over her and had her stay in her bed. If she so much as moved an inch, she would be yelled at, much to her chagrin. She knew they did it because they cared, but she couldn't stand staying still for so long; she had been in bed for over a week.

A blonde haired woman came into her room, wearing a top hat and a lacy black dress that looked like it belonged during the Victorian Era. She was carrying a tray of cereal and a glass of orange juice. She smiled cheerfully at Sam.

"Hiya! I'm Noxa; Near's lover. Nice to meet ya!" She greeted happily, prancing over to Sam.

Sam's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "H-huh? N-Near's lover?"

Noxa laughed good naturedly. "Hehe, just kidding! He's a little too bland for me, if you know what I mean."

"Uh, not really."

Noxa shrugged and placed the tray in front of her. "That's okay; only one who ever knows what I'm talking about it Avon!"

Where the heck did Near pick this girl up? "...Oh."

"Don't talk much, do ya?" A pager strapped to her hip suddenly went off and she tapped it.

"Oh, looks like duty calls! Bye!" Noxa waved and danced out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Sam stared at the food before her, puzzled. "...What exactly just happened?"

A couple hours later, Halle entered her room with her lunch. It was chicken noodle soup. Sam would have preferred to have grilled cheese, but kept the thought to herself, taking the soup gratefully. While she was replacing her breakfast tray with her lunch, Sam asked, "Hey, Halle? What's going on with the case? Who was that girl before?"

Halle furrowed her brow in enmity at the mention of the girl. "Ugh, that was Noxa. She and Avon work in the underground. She's a weapons specialist. A bit crazy, if you ask me."

"As for the case, since no one knows exactly where Inclementia was holding you, we can't go and arrest him and put an end to this madness. Near sent Avon to inspect the area Watari found you, so hopefully something's there that may help with the case."

Sam shivered subconsciously. It was raining. She doubted anything of use would still be there.

"It's odd, you know."

Sam looked up at Halle in confusion. "What's odd?"

Halle met her eyes evenly. "I always thought Near didn't have the means to show emotions, but then you showed up. He was furious when he learned Inclementia had kidnapped you. He even called him a cocksucker."

Sam's eyes widened in aghast. "He actually said that? He's such a hypocrite! He always berates me if I swear. But, what is your point?"

"I think he loves you." Sam nearly choked on her soup.

"W-what?" She exclaimed, coughing wildly.

Halle thumped her on the back a few times. "I think he's in love. Just wait and see. I'm sure he'll talk to you about his confusion. He's so incapable of deciphering his emotions, he can't even tell them apart. Other than anger, of course."

Near's voice then crackled through a speaker overhead.

"Miss Lidner, if you would return please."

"Coming, sir." To Sam, she said, "I'll be up to check on you in a couple hours. Do you have everything you need?"

Sam nodded and Halle left the room. She laid back down and sighed softly, staring up at the ceiling.

"This case is being dragged out unnecessarily. I wish I could take this into my own hands, but I have no idea how. No, it would be better if I just let Near do this. I'd only get in the way." She murmured quietly to herself.

Near

He felt well-rested. It was strange, to him. He hadn't felt this energized in so many years. He couldn't figure out why. He toyed with his bottom lip using his thumb as he listened to Avon's report.

"Haha! That girl's blood actually froze! Can you believe that, cause I sure as hell can't! It's freaking hilarious! There's like, little frozen puddles of blood and a couple drops on grass!" Avon kept snickering as he spoke.

Near was far from amused and Rester grumbled, "I see nothing funny about that."

"Beyond Birthday messed him up." Noxa declared with mock solemnity.

Near sighed. It figures I work with two emotionally disturbed sadists. They make dealing with Mello's temper tantrums a walk in the park. I need to get him to refocus. "Can you follow the trail to any nearby buildings?"

"Well, gee, Near. It's not like the rain didn't wash some of it away or anything." Was the snappy remark he received.

Near began to rub his temples. "Avon, my patience is beginning to wear thin, which is an accomplishment. But, I can only handle so much. Now, without the sarcasm, can you follow the trail to any nearby buildings?"

"Fine, god, you have no sense of humor. No, I can't follow the trail to a-Hang on." Avon's voice grew oddly serious and Near leaned forward interestedly.

Avon continued in a hushed voice, "Some guy just left a house. He fits our suspect's description. Whoa! That girl did a number on his cheek; has it all stitched up and everything. Looks like she took a machete to him or something...No, more like a piece of glass. Near...what do you want me to do? Should I pursue?"

"No. Keep in mind he has the Shinigami eyes." Near froze after he said it.

Shinigami eyes. Damn! Why didn't I think of it before? He saw Sam. He knows her real name, therefore he can kill her any day now. "Never mind. How good are you at stealing?"

"Pretty good. Why? Oh! I get it. Yeah, sure, no problem. Gimme a minute."

Everyone waited in the room in silence. All they heard was various fighting noises and Avon grunted. Rapid footsteps followed soon after and the sound of an engine revving.

"Well?" Near prompted.

"Got it. The only issue now is the bastard stabbed me. Should have shot him in the freaking foot! An eye for an eye!" Avon laughed mirthlessly.

"Where?"

"The side. I'm good to return to the safe house, though. Be there in ten minutes." He shut off his connection.

Noxa ran off, returning a few minutes with a first aid kid. She took off her white gloves, revealing long nails painted red. She rolled up her sleeves and waited patiently for Avon. He stumbled into the room, one hand clutching his side, the other holding a black notebook. He slumped down in one of the seats, moving his hand when Noxa went over. She quickly set to work stitching it up for him. Rester handed Near the notebook, who examined it closely.

"Rester, you should start screaming." He said.

Rester stared at him, confused. "Huh? Why?"

"I believe at the start of this case, you mentioned screaming if you found out the shinigami from the Kira case was involved with this one...He is. It would seem he obtained a new notebook."

Rester smacked his face in exasperation, though from Near's words, or because of the news, no one was fully certain. "That's just a figure of speech, sir."

Inclementia

He wanted to scream. Nothing was going right for him anymore and he began to panic at the thought of someone stealing his notebook. What if he lost his eyes? Worse, what if he lost his memories? Yet, Ryuk was still sulking around him. He didn't get it.

"Ryuk, why are you still here? Someone took my notebook." He finally asked.

"You didn't relinquish your ownership."

Garrison sighed in frustration. "I need to get that notebook back! I still need to kill her!"

Ryuk sat cross legged, floating in the air. He was balancing three apples in his hand, hesitating before finally questioning, "Why didn't you just write her name down the minute she ran off?"

"I want to kill her with my own hands. Not through the power of the shinigami. I want to feel her bones break under my hands." He squeezed his hands together as though he was imagining constricting her throat again.

I always liked humans with such murderous tendencies. They make things a lot more interesting! Ryuk chuckled hoarsely. He was growing fond of Garrison.

"So...what now? Got some brilliant plan thought up yet? You're good at those, you know." Ryuk threw the apple into the air and caught it between his serrated teeth.

"I'm working on it. I saw that guy's name and I'm pretty sure I have a couple pages of the notebook laying around. I'll make something work." He grinned ominously, the plan already beginning to evolve in his head.


	15. Action

Sam

The TV was too boring. It was the morning and the only thing on was education shows meant for toddlers. She asked Halle to bring her up some paper and a pen, which she obliged, and tried to write. She was drained, though. The words and sentences that used to flow like a torrent of water suddenly trickled to a thin stream, coughing up pebbled words once in a while. She sighed and began to doodle on the paper.

"Great, my only source of entertainment, and I can't think of a single thing to write about." She complained, dropping the pen and placing the paper on the night stand.

Her cuts and rib were healing up. Now, it only hurt if she exhaled too sharply or if she twisted her torso the wrong way. Her ankle was getting better, too, but the fragility of the bone wasn't helping it. It was still too painful to walk, much to her irritation, so she was still bedridden. Then again, she always did have weak ankles.

Sam rubbed her eyes and leaned back against her pillows. Near had bought her the best therapeutic pillows he could find. They smelled like tea leaves and felt like she was resting her head on a cloud. She snuggled herself more under the covers, shutting the TV off. She closed her eyes, ready to fall asleep.

Her door opened and she opened both eyes to see Near dragging himself over to the bed. He carelessly flopped onto it and crawled toward her, She watched him oddly as he rested his head on her lap, eyes fluttering closed.

"I wasn't even this exhausted during the Kira case." Despite the fatigue evident on his face, his voice carried no trace of it.

"Well, maybe you should rest more often. You give Halle and Rester time off all the time." She pointed out.

"They have loved ones outside this building. It would go against their rights to keep them from their family."

Sam shook her head and absentmindedly began to run her fingers through his hair. The strands were soft and some curled around her fingers as she gently stroked it. Near mumbled sleepily, "It's nice feeling a different set of fingers in my hair rather than my own."

She smiled and kept stroking his hair, occasionally twirling a curl once in a while. She studied his face as she continued, observing features she had never noticed before. His eyelashes were long and surprisingly dark, standing out against his alabaster skin. His bottom lip had a sore on it and she lightly touched it with her index finger. Near opened one eye to look at her and she pulled her finger back, blushing.

Before she could apologize, he said, "I kept biting it. I couldn't help myself; I started doing so when I couldn't come up with a plan to...help you. Now, I can't seem to stop biting it."

Sam frowned and brushed her thumb gently across the sore again. "You should stop. Just keep with your weird hair twirling thing."

He frowned as well and seemed to pout. "I don't twirl my hair because I want to. It's strictly subconscious; I only do it when I'm thinking."

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes playfully.

Near began to focus on her hand gently sweeping through his hair and closed his eye again. Is this what Mello felt when he was with Cade? Is this what I'm feeling? Lo- His brain forcefully cut his thoughts from uttering that word. His brain began to taunt him and suddenly, he could hear Mello's voice joining in the mockery.

'Ha! You? Loving something other than yourself? Such a stupid notion. You're incapable of it. You aren't human. No one would ever love you!' Mello had said that once when they were younger. It was when he used his words rather than his fists.

_I disagree. I am human, I just have a better hold on my emotions than most._

"Mello" scorned him once more. 'You have no emotions! Now, focus on the case. That's all you'll ever be good at.'

_Sam seems to love me. I don't know what I feel._

He opened his eyes again and concentrated on how he felt at the moment. Her hand brushed his cheek, the skin soft and smooth. Her lap was comfortable and warm. He felt safe, content. He turned himself enough to look up at her. Her large amethyst eyes stared inquisitively down at her. Her facial features always seemed to soften when she looked at him.

"Sam, do you love me?" His mouth blurted out the words without his mind's permission and both of them looked surprised.

Then, her face turned maroon. "W-why would you ask something like that?"

Near smiled coyly. "You hesitated. And your reaction gives you away."

He sat up and brushed his lips against hers in a very fleeting kiss. He stood and regained his composure, sticking his hands in his jean pockets.

"It's alright if you do. There is roughly an eighty percent chance I feel the same." He turned around and added, "I should get back. It's best to not leave Avon and Noxa unsupervised for a certain amount of time."

He shuffled out of the room, seeming to be more energized, and closed the door behind him. Sam, who was still frozen in shock, snapped out of it. She touched her lips, her face burning, but she couldn't hold back the smile that stretched across her face.

Near

Once he had left the room, Near leaned against the wall, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He wasn't quite sure what had gotten over him, but he placed his hand over his heart. The heartbeat turned smug. He scowled and straightened up, beginning to walk again.

"Forget about the notebook being the worst weapon of mass murder; the heart beats it easily." He grumbled, going down the flight of stairs that lead to the monitor room.

The door hissed open and he stepped inside. The minute he did, he was assaulted by Avon, who punched him right in the jaw. He fell backwards, startled by the blow, and glowered up at the older boy. His jaw was stinging

"That hurt. Care to tell me why you just punched me?" Near got back to his feet, his voice just barely revealing the annoyance he felt.

"Yeah! It makes me feel better." Avon smirked at him and Near thought for a moment, he looked like Mello.

Rester was glaring daggers at Avon, but when he asked Near if he was alright, Near simply waved him off and sat in his chair, pulling his knee up to his chest. He noticed he smelled like vanilla; like Sam. No, focus right now. The case. You must solve the case.

"Near, lemme ask you something." Avon said, face more somber.

"Yes, what is it?"

"What do you plan on doing with the notebook?"

Near glanced over where Halle had locked the notebook in one of the drawers. He himself had the key, but made sure Avon and Noxa didn't know that little fact.

"Nothing. I wanted it away from him should he do anything rash." Near curled his toes over the end of his chair and rested his hand on his raised knee.

Avon scoffed. "What does it matter if he kills her? The whole case would be fuckin' over with!"

Rester and Halle both cringed when they saw Near's eyes flash that deadly shade of black. However, he kept his voice composed as he coldly replied, "The whole case would not 'be over with' if he killed her. No human has the right to use this notebook, especially one as mentally unstable as Inclementia. Now, I'd suggest you keep your opinions to yourself before you say something you'll regret."

Avon's eyes widened slightly at the threat underlying Near's tone, but rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, snorting. "...Whatever."

He turned his back on the others, ignoring Noxa's eyes. "I'm going to go back to that location; see if there's anything there I missed."

"Fine." Near didn't turn around, absentmindedly typing.

Avon didn't reach the door before he let out a strangled gasp, his eyes slowly widening before they grew blank and his body slouched.

Inclementia

He chuckled to himself as he pulled out the scrap of the notebook he had ripped out before Avon had stolen it from him.

"I haven't tried this before. Ryuk, he'll still do what I write down even if the paper is ripped out, right?"

"Oh, yeah. It will." Ryuk automatically responded, having used to being asked that question.

"Good." Garrison began to write, purposefully, and when he was done, set his paper down, grinning triumphantly.

"It's a shame; I would have loved to see this pan out. Unfortunately, I'll just have to wait another hour." He reclined his chair and crossed his ankles.

Ryuk peered over his shoulder at the piece of paper and laughed.

**Ambrose Killingworth. Kills L before kidnapping Saxon Leroux and bringing her to Inclementia at 57 Mountain Road before killing himself at 6:45pm.**


	16. Checkmate

Near

He turned around at the sound of the odd noise made by Avon. I know that sound. Noxa and the others looked at Avon, who had slowly turned back around. His ocher eyes had glazed over; the eyes of a corpse. His body was languid and he took a few stumbling steps forward.

"A-Avon? What's wrong?" Noxa asked nervously.

Near had seen that facial expression before. He remembered. He remembered the gun being fired and then his hair was red and the body was slumped on the ground before him. _So, Inclementia decided to kill him, huh? What is he going to have hi-_ The answer hit him before he completed his thoughts and he studied Halle and Rester. _Rester would be the better choice._

"Rester, go upstairs and protect Sam." He abruptly ordered.

Rester hesitated, obviously reluctant to go around someone whose actions were yet unknown, but he obeyed and quickly left the room. Avon ignored Rester when he skittered past and pulled out his gun. He took a couple steps closer to Near. Halle pulled out her own gun, aiming it at him.

"Put down your gun!" She commanded, finger on the trigger.

Noxa pulled her gun out as well, uncertain on who to point it at; Avon or Halle. Near watched the events calmly, fingers twirling his hair. He wasn't afraid; he learned there was never anything to fear.

"A-Avon, why are you doing this? We're supposed to be helping him!" Noxa cried.

"He can't hear you. He's become nothing more than a puppet doing Inclementia's bid before he dies himself." He said to Noxa, who finally chose to aim the gun at Halle.

She paused, then shakily aimed it at Avon, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

"Avon, please, snap out of it! Don't make us shoot you!"

Avon laughed shortly. "Please. I'm still conscious enough; I just can't fully control my body. I only have three things to do and I intend to fulfill all of them."

He cocked the gun and aimed it at Near. Near's expression darkened considerably as he stared at Avon. _I believe this is the third time I've had a gun pointed at me. I never even got to tell Sam that I do harbor feelings for her_

For a minute, Avon just stood there, finger poised over the trigger. Near stared blankly at him. "It would appear you get what you always wan-"

There was the sound of a trigger and blood splattered onto the monitors. Halle fired and Noxa shrieked. There were several more gunshots and then it was silent.

Sam

Rester barged into her room, looking urgent. She had just begun to drift off to sleep, but the sound of her door slamming open startled her and she sat up, hoping it was Near. She needed to talk to him.

"R-Rester? What's wrong?" She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake herself up.

"Something's wrong with Avon. Near sent me up here to protect you."

Sam's eyes widened slightly. "W-what do you mean? What's wrong with him?"

"I think Inclementia got to him. He started to act strange and he pulled out his gun and I think he's being controlled by the notebook. I don't know what he's going to do." Rester quietly explained, pulling his gun out and turning his back to her to watch the door.

"What about Near? You should be protecting him!" She protested.

Rester didn't turn around. "He gave me orders. Besides, he has Halle and Noxa down there. They'll protect him."

For a few moments, the two strained their ears for any sounds of distress, but heard nothing. Sam was clutching her quilt fearfully. There was the sound of a gunshot and she jumped. The next ones were louder than the first, ricocheting off the metal walls and assaulting their ears. She whimpered and hugged one of her pillows to her chest, tears beginning to prick the corner of her eyes.

Then, a bloodied Avon kicked the door down. Before Rester could even fire his gun, Avon rushed toward him, hitting him in the head with the butt of his gun. The larger man collapsed, unconscious, and Avon stepped over him, staring at Sam. Her eyes were wide with horror at the sight of the blood. He had a wound on his shoulder, but he seemed hardly bothered by it. There was far too much blood on him to be his, she noticed. It sickened her to think about whose blood was on him. She hoped it wasn't Near's.

He walked over to her and grabbed her roughly, slinging her over his shoulder. The smell of copper in the blood nauseated her and she struggled vainly.

"Let me go! Why are you doing this?" She thumped his back with her small fists.

He didn't say anything and he exited the room, walking down the hallway. The building seemed eerily quiet and Sam asked hesitantly, "W-what did you do to Near and the others?"

Again, he ignored her and walked past the monitor room. She looked in and screamed.

Blood was everywhere. The most was on the monitors where Near always sat. His white clothes and hair were stained crimson and he had fallen out of his chair. She couldn't tell where he had been shot, but hoped it wasn't somewhere fatal, if he was still alive. He was on his stomach, his right arm outstretched as though he had reached out to Avon, trying to stop him. His head was turned away from her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to see his face anyway. Halle was slumped against the wall, blood steadily pumping out of her chest. Her head was ducked down, and her gun was still in her hand. Noxa was nowhere to be seen, at least as far as Sam could see.

"Y-you..." She couldn't finish as she wretched, disgusted by the carnage.

He carried her to the garage where all the vehicles were. There were far too many, but Near had insisted they would use all of them at one point for a means of escape. Avon pulled out a set of keys and pressed a button. A black SUV nearby chirped in response. He threw her in the back unceremoniously before getting in the driver's seat, screeching out of the underground lot and onto the street.

Sam laid on her side in the back seat, tears beginning to pour down her face. She hiccuped when she thought back to the monitor room. I-I don't understand...why did Avon betray us? W-where's he taking me? Her heart stopped when she figured out the answer.

Noxa

He missed her. Each shot he fired was aimed either above or just to the right of her, never once hitting their designated spot. She didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry. She had fallen to her knees when Halle was killed by him, too shocked to do anything else. Near hadn't gotten up and she didn't expect him to.

Noxa's legs finally stopped shaking and she got back to her feet. She just had to check. She slowly walked over to Near, kneeling down in the puddle of blood surrounding him. She gently turned him over onto his back. His eyes were closed and his mouth was parted slightly as though he were only sleeping. She frowned when she didn't see a wound in his forehead; Avon had been aiming there. She looked at his chest and was floored when she saw it slowly rising and falling. Yet, there was a hole where the bullet had struck him. She unbuttoned his shirt and let out a shaky laugh.

"You sneaky bastard. Fake blood and a bullet proof vest?" She murmured, glancing down at him.

"No, some of the blood is real. From my head; he grazed it. I don't know how, but he somehow managed to remain slightly in control despite the notebook controlling him." Near replied, opening one of his eyes.

Noxa looked over at Halle. "What about her?"

He opened the other and looked over at her. For a minute, his eyes clouded over. "Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for her. She's dead."

She hummed solemnly and helped Near to his feet. He pouted when his socks began to soak up the artificial blood, staining them. Rester appeared, holding his battered and bloody head. His eyes widened in surprise.

"S-sir, are you al-"

"Fake blood. I am fine. But, Halle is dead. It's just the three of us. We need to go after Avon and retrieve Sam before Inclementia has the opportunity to kill her." Near began to shuffle over to the door.

Rester glanced at his fallen partner, eyes saddening before they hardened with raw determination. "Yeah."

"How do you propose we do that? We don't know where Avon's heading." Noxa pointed out, puzzled.

Near placed a hand in his right breast pocket, pulling out a flat remote. "I've bugged all the cars in the garage. It will be simple. We should go."

The three quickly went to the garage. Near and Rester got in a black Town car and Noxa placed her helmet on, straddling her motorcycle. Near sat in the back of the car and pulled out his cell phone, pressing a button.

"Watari, please follow us. Once we locate Sam, be prepared to use any means necessary to ensure her survival." He instructed.

"Yes, sir."

Near pocketed his phone and Rester started the car, backing out. He and Noxa turned onto the street and followed the blinking "A" that represented Avon. Near looked out the window, hugging his knees to his chest.

He hoped he wouldn't lose another person dear to him.

Sam

The car ride seemed to last for hours. She still laid on her side, her tears sliding across the slender bridge of her nose. She was done pleading with Avon; it was obvious he would not listen to her. He had the radio off, the only sound was coming from the tires rolling and the other cars rushing by. He stopped the car and got out, opening the back seat. Sam didn't struggle when he grabbed her, and began to drag her toward the one level house. She whimpered when she recognized it and began to thrash as he opened the door. He pushed her inside and shut the door behind him. Garrison was standing there expectantly, grinning ominously.

"Hello, Searlait Sloan. So nice of you to join me."

Sam's eyes widened. H-how does he know my real name? I never told anyone! Avon released his grip on her arm and took a couple steps back. Garrison grabbed her, yanking her over to him. She turned her head to look at Avon, who had pulled his gun out. Garrison was watching with sadistic mirth as Avon aimed it at his own temple. Avon met his eyes with barren amber.

"Inclementia. Congratulations; you finished what Beyond Birthday failed to do. You killed me." He pulled the trigger and fell backward, the gun clattering away from his body.

Sam let out a little scream, turning her head away from his body. Garrison let out a short bark of laughter before forcing her down into the basement, throwing her down the stairs. She felt her rib crack again and she hit the cement wall hard. Wincing, she wrapped an arm around her torso, trying to stop the throbbing pain.

He walked down the stairs toward her, grabbing her sprained ankle and dragging her forcefully toward her. She cried out and he pinned her down, holding his gun to her head.

"I loved you, did you know that? But, you took my heart and stomped on it and ran off! I can't forgive something like that! I could have killed you with the notebook, but that's so impersonal. Killing you so I can see the last terrified look on your face and see your blood pooling around your dead body is much more personal." He hissed, eyes wild.

Sam's eyes flickered from his face to the gun, staring at the weapon worriedly. He aimed it at the center of her forehead. She heard the safety click off and her breath hitched.

"It's a shame. Things could have turned out so much differently if you had given me a chance." Garrison mused, standing up.

She scrambled back from him, curling up in a little ball. He circled her like a predator as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

"Now, how should I do this? Should it be quick, or shall I prolong the suffering?" He asked himself, continuing to circle her.

Sam curled up tighter and shut her eyes. She didn't want to see his plans. His footsteps grew closer and something collided with her face. She fell onto her side, her cheek cut open. Her eyes flew open and she gaped at him. He was standing over her, glaring venomously at her.

"Look at me!" He commanded, his voice echoing around the room.

She cringed at the volume of his voice and reluctantly kept her eyes on him. He smirked at his insignificant triumph and tapped the gun thoughtfully against his chin.

"Even though you are still my idol, I think torture would be better suited." He finalized.

He approached her ominously and she began to crawl back, tears spilling down her face as she whispered, "Please, no!"

Near

They seemed to be moving in slow motion. Each traffic light lasted for hours and it seemed they stopped at every one. Near dropped his legs and began to bounce his right leg nervously.

"We don't have a siren?" He asked irritably.

"No." Rester admitted, looking just as irritated, though Near figured it was because of his jiggling leg as Rester glared at it.

Noxa's voice filtered through one of the speakers set up in the car. "I am going to go ahead. Maneuvering a motorcycle is much easier than a car. Catch up when you can."

"Alright, but do not do anything once you get to the location, no matter what you see. Wait for me." Near instructed.

"No promises." She turned off her speaker and a second later, revved past the car.

Near sighed and rubbed his temples. The light turned green and Rester sped after Noxa, who had just rounded a corner. They came across another red light and Rester stopped again. Near huffed and crawled into the front.

"Rester, switch seats with me." He ordered.

Rester stared at him in bewilderment. "Huh? Can you even-"

He immediately shut his mouth when Near's eyes flashed. He obediently went into the passenger seat and Near took over the driver's seat. He slammed on the gas, going into oncoming traffic. Rester gripped his seat, eyes wide, and he yelled, "S-sir, I understand the situation, but don't you think-WATCH OUT FOR THE STOP SIGN!- t-think this is a little...unnecessary?"

Near turned sharply down Mountain Road, scanning the house numbers rapidly. "The ends justify the means. Besides, we're insured, and the idiot who hits us better hope he is as well."

He hit the brakes when he saw the car Avon had taken and Noxa's motorcycle parked beside it. He undid his seatbelt and ran to the house with Rester behind him. The door had been kicked down and Avon's body was in the doorway, his blood flowing down the steps. Near stepped over the pool and spotted Noxa standing in the living room, facing the corpse. Her lacy fists were clenched tightly and her jaw was set. Near went over to her and whispered, "Do not do anything rash, please."

Then, he touched his ear, turning his earpiece on. "Watari, please keep in mind; do not kill him unless I approve it and we have secured Sam. Are you in position?"

"Yes, sir. I've located two heat signatures in the basement." Roger responded a second later.

Just as he was speaking, a thin wail split through the air and a resounding smack cut it off. Rester and Noxa pulled out their guns, following Near down the stairs. They nearly ran into their superior when he abruptly stopped at the foot of the stairs, his whole body shaking. They looked over his shoulders and both gaped in horror.

Garrison was standing over a bruised and beaten Sam, holding a lighter near her face. The flames licked at her skin and she let out another wail, trying to flinch back. Her clothes were tattered and bloody, her skin covered in bruises and cuts ranging from deep to superficial. Her right leg was the worst; he had shot her, possibly to keep her from escaping. Near couldn't tell if he was aiming for the bone or not.

Rester and Noxa aimed their guns and Near commanded, "Inclementia, step away from the girl."

Sam

Garrison snapped his head up at the voice and narrowed his eyes. Sam weakly turned her head and saw Near standing there, clothes and face bloody, but unhurt. His hands were curled into shaking fists and his mouth was pressed in a thin line. Garrison grabbed Sam roughly by her arm, pulling her into his body uncomfortably. He wasn't warm or safe like Near was. She felt the gun bump against her temple.

"Don't come any closer! I'll shoot her!" Garrison bellowed.

Near said, "Let her go; you've done enough."

Garrison struggled to discern their names for a minute. Ryuk was hovering in a corner, studying everyone's life spans. Sam's had decreased considerably once again and he quickly calculated how long she had before he turned to look at Near's. Hehe, his is by far the longest. Looks like he'll be alone for the rest of his life. He studied Garrison's. Ryuk laughed gratingly and floated up through the ceiling. Garrison paid him no mind, too busy screaming threats while trying to think of a plan.

Near took a half step near him, but froze the second Garrison jabbed the gun into Sam's temple. She cringed.

"You're killing her, Nate!"


	17. Return to Normalcy

Near

His face darkened at the sound of his real name. He closed his eyes. _I know what I must do. If I don't do this, then Sam will die._ He opened his eyes, his face relaxed.

Near took Rester's gaze and aimed it at Sam. Her eyes widened and she looked at him pleadingly. His face was devoid of emotion. Garrison and the others stared at him in confusion.

"She means nothing to me. All that matters to me is bringing you to justice, Inclementia. And if getting rid of the hostage myself is the only way to do it, so be it." He stated, cocking the gun.

"Are you insane?" He wasn't sure who yelled it. Maybe all of them.

"No, I am perfectly in my right mind. Did you really think a stupid girl would affect my judgment?" Near asked rhetorically, moving the gun and firing it.

The bullet struck Garrison's head and he collapsed. Near tossed the gun to Rester with disgust.

Sam fell to the floor, stared at Garrison's body, and began to scream.

Sam

She felt his blood splash onto her face. She felt something break. She couldn't stop screaming, her tears blurring her vision. She writhed on the floor spasmodically. The pain was excruciating. She kept her eyes shut.

The shinigami floated back down and scowled. "I wanted to add his name so I would get the rest of my life span!"

Near went over to him and handed the notebook back, glowering at the shinigami. "Please stop dropping your notebook; it's becoming rather cumbersome chasing after the psychos you keep finding."

"They're the most interesting kind of humans, though." The shinigami whined as he disappeared through the wall.

She felt a pair of hands scooping her up and then she was pressed into a warm, soft body. Her seizing stopped and her little fingers gripped his now blood soaked shirt. He murmured something soft and she was lulled by his voice. Her eyes fluttered and she was falling.

Sam

Sam was laying on rock. She opened her eyes and heard a constant beep, irritating her. She was hooked up to various machines and her room smelled like medicine. She took in her surroundings and realized she was in a hospital. She gave a soft whine of annoyance, then tilted her head to the side when she noticed a ball of white curled up in a seat beside her bed. It was Near, his forehead resting on his knee, and his body moving slowly as he breathed. He lifted his head up sleepily before his gray eyes hardened with vigilance. In an instant, he was by her side, peering into her face at an uncomfortable proximity.

"You're awake. Are you alright? How do you feel? Do you feel any pain?" He rambled, staring at her.

"I-I'm fine." Her voice was hoarse and she coughed. Her throat was like sandpaper. "Water."

Near grabbed her a glass of water, holding it for her. "Drink slowly. You've been asleep for nearly two weeks."

She pushed the glass away as she choked in shock. "T-two weeks?"

He nodded and sat on the bed. "The doctor wasn't certain if you would wake up. It certainly was interesting bringing you here. Too many unnecessary questions. So, I hired your own private nurses and doctor."

"What was the extent of my injuries?" She asked softly.

Near looked away from her, pulling out a Rubik's Cube. He fiddled with it, but otherwise didn't attempt to solve it. "Second degree burn on your cheek, scarred. A cut on your other cheek, healed. Cracked rib, healed. Bruises and cuts, superficial or otherwise, healed mostly. Shot to the leg, healed. You were lucky; he missed your femur. Just some muscle damage. It will take you a while to fully be able to walk."

Sam sighed and laid her head back on her pillow. She missed the therapeutic ones Near had bought for her. "...I see. Well, I guess I can count myself lucky. Did you really k-k-"

"Yes. I apologize for what I said. You mean everything to me." He admitted, his cheeks dusted a light pink and he ducked his head as though he were ashamed he confessed such a thing.

Sam's blushed as well, but smiled slightly, and leaned toward him, hugging him. "I'm glad this is all over. But, I'm happy it started. Otherwise, I may have never seen my first friend again."

* * *

><p>"Saxon Leroux's long anticipated book of poems, Alive, has finally come out! Critics have described it as dark, creative, and a side of Miss Leroux that the world has never seen before." The hostess addressed the audience excitedly.<p>

They applauded and Sam smiled. She was sitting across from the other woman, a cane resting against her chair.

"Tell us, Saxon, where did the inspiration come from?" She asked, meeting Sam's eyes.

"Well, the whole issue with Inclementia was a huge inspiration. I'm not a very negative person, but with that situation, I was able to scrap the poems together." Sam replied, maintaining eye contact.

"The very last poem has striked up some controversy, in particular the line, 'He waits for me, adorned in white. Hand outstretched.' Speculation is you have found a love interest. Care to give us the truth?"

Sam's smiled widened; she knew that question was coming up. "Yes, I have a boyfriend."

The audience erupted in applause and the hostess bounced in her seat zealously. "Ooh, give us the details!"

"Well, I can't say much, he's very shy, you understand, but we've been together for the past three months, and I happen to be pregnant; two months pregnant." She touched her stomach as she said the last part, smiling gently.

"Congratulations! It has been confirmed; Saxon is pregnant and has a boyfriend! Thank you for joining us!" The hostess and Sam got up to hug before Sam exited the studio.

Her new publisher, Abigail, was waiting for her, jumping up and down. She was tall with black hair and optimistic blue eyes.

"Great job! I know you hate doing interviews, but you did wonderfully!" Abigail gushed, linking arms with her.

While her personality was a stark contrast from Tanya's, Sam was beginning to grow fond of her and she smiled. "Thanks, Abby."

They walked to their car when a black limo stopped in front of them. Abigail paused and frowned, but Sam's smile brightened. "It's alright, Abby; it's for me. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Okay. Wait, is this from your mysterious boyfriend? When am I going to meet him? As your publisher, I think I should-"

"Soon. I promise you." Sam smiled reassuringly before getting into the limo.

Near was sitting there, one leg pulled up to his chest, but he set it down as he pulled her toward him, kissing her. She hugged his neck and felt his hand touch her stomach. His eyes were blank, but she saw the hidden uncertainty.

"It's okay. It isn't that bad." She assured him.

He pulled away from her slightly, beginning to twist a curl. "If you say so. I trust your judgment. I refuse diaper duty, by the way."

She laughed and nodded. "Fair enough, I suppose. But, you have to play with him as much as you can. And teach him how to solve a Rubik's Cube in under thirty seconds."

Near scowled. "I detest the Rubik's Cube."

She giggled and nuzzled herself into his arms, resting her head on his chest. Her soft hair tickled his face and he slowly wrapped an arm around her.


End file.
